


In Arduis Fidelis 5

by DontAppallMeWhenImHigh



Series: In Arduis Fidelis [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abused Sherlock, Alpha John, Alpha Mycroft, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Omega Sherlock, Omega Verse, Original Character(s), PTSD Sherlock, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Protective Mycroft, Rape Recovery, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock-centric, Tender Sex, Tenderness, Vulnerable Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 16:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 56
Words: 124,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7322257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontAppallMeWhenImHigh/pseuds/DontAppallMeWhenImHigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuing the story with Sherlock's life now he is 19 and out of Magnussen's control ....finally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Under Northern Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who has carried on reading even after this story became insanely long and despite my abysmal punctuation .....  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoi gets a little of what he deserves .  
> Mycroft tries to convince Alan to bring Sherlock home to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brekkie ....slang for breakfast  
> Chrimbo....slang for Christmas  
> Butty...slang for a filled bread roll

Sherlock turned his head to stare out the car windows at the endless forest with its tall , narrow pine trees and dark shadowed pine needled forest floor underneath, as Riddick turned slowly off the road and drove down a track used by the wood cutters to haul away timber on their flat bedded truck. Alan glanced at the boy remembering how little Sherlock had actually seen of the Danish country side outside Magnussen’s huge private estate with its high, camera topped walls.  
Alan reached for the glove box and pulled out a black, knitted Nike hat. “Put this on his head and pull it down over his eyes lad,” he said as he tossed the hat onto Sherlock’s lap. Riddick watched in the mirror as Sherlock’s long, white musician’s fingers pulled at the hat until the boy was sure Hoi’s eyes were covered despite the Beta trying to talk Sherlock out of doing as Riddick had asked.  
“Sherlock, none of this is your fault. I can tell Mr Magnussen that…if you stop this now!”  
Alan laughed fiercely startling the man into silence. “And you think he’d spare the boy do you? Fucking Hell you’re a dopey sod!”

Riddick thought he saw a tiny brief smile on Sherlock’s face when he insulted Hoi but it was gone so fast he wasn’t sure. Hoi thrashed his head about rubbing it against the seat and trying to dislodge the makeshift blindfold as best he could while being held down by his seatbelt and Arvo’s cuffs.  
“Stop that! Quit it!” Alan’s voice was sharp. “Sherlock and me are swapping cars here, its best you don’t see anything of the car we’ll be using now. You knock that hat off your head and I so much as think you got a view of the plates and I’ll have to kill you.”  
Hoi went still….and very quiet. Riddick grinned at Sherlock and gave the boy a wink as if to say he wouldn’t have killed Hoi really….truth was he was ready to do so if he needed but right now Sherlock needed calm reassurance not more violence and Alan knew it.

“Riddick?” Hoi’s voice was almost subservient. ”You won’t get away with taking Mr Magnussen’s Omega….if you let us go….”  
Alan pulled up just behind his old green Land Rover and turned off the engine.  
“I already took him away….and I’ll be a dead man before I let that twisted bastard take him back for more of the same.”  
Alan opened the car door and came around the car for Sherlock. “Alright lad?”  
Sherlock nodded and stepped weakly from the car his bare toes curling against the cold, wet grass as Alan opened the boot and hefted his huge army backpack over his shoulder. On the dashboard Alan’s mobile was vibrating furiously as it had been throughout the drive here and Riddick saw the boy’s blue eyes flicker to it. “That’s either Magnussen or your brother. Let’s get in the car before we answer it, yeah?”  
“Ok.” Sherlock still sounded a little short of breath, shivering in the short sleeved blue hospital gown that left his arms, legs and back exposed. Alan averted his eyes from the curve of the boy’s bare arse he could see exposed. There was a nasty bruise on his temple where his head had connected hard with the seat in front as the car had spun around on the wet tarmac in front of Magnussen’s gates. Alan pulled his car keys from his pocket and opened the back of the Land Rover, throwing his heavy Army issue back pack inside on top of the two boxes and sleeping bags that were already in there. Alan pushed aside a old blue ground sheet and pulled out a heavy grey blanket roll.  
“Catch!”…. Sherlock’s reflexes were fast Alan noted approvingly as the Omega caught it. “You look half frozen. Wrap that round yourself. We’ll get you some clothes when we hit a city.” Alan opened the passenger door and Sherlock was quick to dart inside out of the biting wind and pull the blanket round himself , the temperature had dropped noticeably now as Alan slammed the door to keep the cold out and jogged back to the BMW to find Hoi panicking.

“Riddick? Hello! Hello! Sherlock! Sherlock!”  
Alan reached into the front for his mobile phone and pulled the keys from the ignition before throwing them away into the long grass. “Right…we’ll be off now. Sit tight, I’ll send someone for you.”  
“What! You can’t leave me here in the middle of nowhere!” Hoi’s voice whined as Alan checked his missed calls….Mycroft and Magnussen; just as he’d thought. “Sherlock! Sherlock! Sherlock!” Hoi began shouting and in the Land Rover parked just ahead Alan saw the lad’s head turn to look.  
Riddick gave a low, contemptuous Alpha growl. “Leave him alone!” He leant threateningly into the back seat until his angry snarl was mere centimetres from Hoi’s ear.” Grow a pair of balls you pathetic wanker. I’ve seen you at work and your so called bloody heat examinations ….don’t you forget that! Didn’t bother you to fucking hurt him did it? You’ve no damn right begging him for help now!” Alan’s clenched fist drove into Hoi’s gut and ribs five times in quick succession and the Beta cried out and choked. “That….that is just a taste of what being Magnussen’s bloody Omega’s been like for that boy! You shut your whining and you think on that while you’re freezing your balls off!” Alan left the back door to the car open, the cold already beginning to make the Beta’s flesh rise in goose bumps.

Climbing into the driver’s seat and slamming the door hard Alan was obviously angry and Sherlock looked at him trying to deduce what had happened.  
“You didn’t kill him?”  
“No, but I bloody well should have!” Alan reversed past the parked BMW with its open door just as the first snow of winter began to fall.  
“He’ll freeze?” Sherlock’s head turned as they pulled away and he saw the open car door. He didn’t sound overly worried by the idea.  
“He’ll be a bit cold alright.” Alan’s explosive anger was fading now and he only wanted to get them both away from there.  
Sherlock made a small indeterminate sound.  
“He won’t freeze, they’ll pick him up.” Alan said as he turned back onto the busy road and accelerated away.  
Alan slid his mobile into its hands free holder and stole a glance at Sherlock. The boy still looked half frozen with darkly stressed shadows under his eyes but at least he’d stopped shivering as the blanket and the Land Rover’s heating began to warm his bones up.

“Where are we going Alan?” The question was gently asked.  
Riddick cleared his throat before he answered, this was it then….the lad would either agree to come or he wouldn’t. “I’ve a place I’ve owned it for years. It’s basic but its safe… off grid…I thought….we’d go there.”  
Sherlock didn’t say yes but then he hadn’t said no either and Alan risked another glance as he slotted the car into the fast lane and put his foot down. There was a tiny puckered frown line between the boy’s eyebrows and Alan guessed what Sherlock’s next question would be before it was even asked.  
“You asked my brother for help, those were his agents?”  
“Aye. I did.”  
Sherlock waited silently for more of an answer.  
“I let him think I’d be bringing you out to him.” Alan heard the sharp intake of shocked breath Sherlock gave and he rushed to explain. “He wants a legal battle to get custody of you back. You don’t know ….Magnussen made sure of that ….but a lot of noise is being made about Omega rights in the news. A big, high profile case like you and Magnussen would be headline news and with all the abuse you’ve been through….if you won, it’d force through new laws.”  
Sherlock looked appalled. “What if we didn’t win? What then? What happens to me?”  
Riddick’s voice was gruff as he replied. “Depends on what the Judges' decide... maybe ...you’d go back to Magnussen, legally he’d claim you like he did before. Now do you see why you’re here and not with your brother?”  
“So this is your plan ….we just hide?”  
Alan chanced a grin. “I didn’t say it was brilliant. I’m not you.”  
Sherlock blushed as he looked down, confused as ever by a genuine compliment.  
“We lay low strategically; it sounds a Hell of a lot better than hiding ….let your brother get set up to fight his legal battle, get public opinion behind him ….if he wins you get to go home.”  
“And if he loses?” there was worry in Sherlock’s voice.  
“You’ve a home with me if that’s ….for as long as…if that’s what you want?.... I’m used to having you around.” Alan spoke calmly as he reached out a hand only smiling when his warm palm engulfed Sherlock’s long fingered, narrow hand.

“Right, let’s call your arrogant git of a brother then.”  
“He isn’t so bad, once you get to know him.” Sherlock’s smile was shy.  
“I’ll take your word for that lad.”  
Riddick hit dial and put the call on speaker phone.  
“Where is my brother you underhanded, dishonest, utter _bastard _!” Mycroft’s Elite accent was sharper than glass. “If you’ve harmed him in any way…”__  
Sherlock blinked, clearly shocked. ”Mycroft!”  
“Sherlock! Sherlock! Please tell me you’re unharmed? He hasn’t hurt you? He hasn’t touched you?” Concern flooded Mycroft’s normally collected and considered voice and Alan felt a pang of guilt.  
“He wouldn’t do that. I hit my head on the car seat but I’m okay. It’s just a bump….You _never _swear!” Sherlock said incredulously!__  
Mycroft sounded ashamed to Riddick’s total surprise. “The circumstances are somewhat extenuating brother mine. You are God knows where in a car being driven by a kidnapper and a potential rapist.”  
“Oi! I’m no bloody rapist and you can’t kidnap the willing!” Riddick interjected.  
“ Legally a kidnapper is exactly what you are Mr Riddick! The rest remains to be seen.”  
“Ahh there it is…the fucking snarky tone back again!” Alan’s patience snapped. “I’m not going to harm your brother and he knows that!”  
There was a short, tense silence.

“Where are you taking him?” Mycroft’s elegant Eton accent made the whole idea sound preposterous.  
“Somewhere safe. Where Magnussen can’t find us.”  
“Us?” Mycroft’s question was sharply interrogative. “Sherlock please tell me you are not together…. you aren’t lovers? You mustn’t! Do you hear me? Charles Magnussen owns all rights to your body.”  
Sherlock’s mouth had fallen open before he regained his senses and lost his temper spectacularly. “It’s _my _body! Not _anyone _else’s! How can you even say that to me! I’m _not _a thing to be owned!” The hurt in Sherlock’s young voice was all too clear.______  
“No, Sherlock…no! That’s not how I see you…. of course you have... you should have.... autonomy over yourself!” Mycroft rushed his speech so fast that a faint stammer appeared that nobody had heard for years. “Sherlock please just listen to me?”  
Sherlock was silent and distrustful.

“Sherlock?”  
“He can hear you.” Riddick’s voice was full of a blunt disapproval.  
“Sherlock ….I only meant ….under bond law Charles has exclusivity.”  
“Say again.” Riddick’s voice cut across Mycroft’s explanation.  
“It means only Magnussen can partner Sherlock sexually….anything else, with any other sexual partner is regarded under Bond Law as rape, even if Sherlock consented….and he mustn’t , the consequences of such an act would be extreme!”  
Alan lost his head and his temper! “One ….that fucking bastard raped him multiple times! “  
Sherlock was wiping desperately at his eyes, head turned away to hide his crying.  
“Two….that there law is the sickest SHIT I have ever fucking heard in my life! Three ….you bastard bloody elite fucks have the whole thing sewn up tight don’t you! You can bond who you want, rape them , beat the crap outta them , treat an Omega like shit and your filthy fucking bond laws will back you up all the way?”  
“That is not how we all act!” The silence was painful as Mycroft waited to be sure Alan’s explosive outburst of temper was over before he spoke. “I am not, nor have I ever been an Alpha of that ilk. I have never abused Sherlock ….I adore my brother!”  
Alan was silent and Sherlock didn’t speak.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft pleaded with the emotional Omega. “I’m sorry if learning the truth behind your situation has upset you, I should have chosen my words with more care. You needed to know. In a few weeks’ time you will come into heat. Unless Riddick; you have constructed a fully fitted heat suite in this ‘safe house’ then you will be exposed to the full scent of my brother in oestrus! You will take him sexually. You will not be able to control yourself ….. and nor will he!”  
Sherlock stiffened fearfully. Alan took one look at the Omega’s tearstained face and reached for the mobile, sliding the speaker phone off and putting it to his ear. “Right, you Elite knob end! It’s only you and me talking now! I’m no rapist! Whatever it takes to keep him safe …that’s what I’ll do. I’ve been bonded before; I’m not a total fucking novice round an Omega! Forcing him will never happen!”  
“Elite Omega’s have more intense heats; the scent will be beyond anything you’ve experienced!” Mycroft sounded exhausted.  
“Great, the place will smell bloody amazing for a week!” Alan joked flatly. “I’ll set him up. He’ll be safe. I’m not going to hurt him.” Mycroft’s doubts were almost audible. “I won’t hurt him!” Alan repeated .  
“You have no idea what you will do until it happens.” Mycroft refused to be convinced.  
“I’ve had enough of this shit. I’m ending this call and this bloody mobile phone is going out the car window , so don’t get any smart ideas about using it to track us!”  
“Wait! How will I contact you?”  
“Send us a fucking card at Chrimbo for all I care!” Alan’s voice was openly hostile. “ I’ll call….Sherlock will call.” He cut Mycroft’s concerned voice off with a swipe of his broad thumb and opened the car window, flicking the mobile phone out across the motorway lane with a jerk of his wrist, the freezing air filling the car until he closed the window again.

Sherlock’s expression was full of trepidation and Alan tried to reach him. “I’m not going to hurt you lad. You’ve got my word on that. It’s going to be ok.” He didn’t know what else he could promise now the thought was in the boy’s mind, simply saying he wouldn’t may not be enough ….he knew that.  
Sherlock’s tiny answering nod meant more to Riddick at that moment than words.  
“Right, how about we stop and get some brekkie? You haven’t lived until you’ve risked salmonella with a bacon butty from a petrol station forecourt.”  
“A what?” Sherlock asked confused as if he’d barely been listening.  
“A butty lad. I’ll make a Northerner out of you yet! I’ll get you a coffee too. “ Alan coaxed the boy , knowing just how much Sherlock had loved his coffee.  
“Some cigarettes and some sweets?” Sherlock asked hopefully  
Alan grinned. “You strike a hard bargain ….but yeah !”  
Sherlock’s answering smile this time was a little less afraid and Alan reached for the radio and blasted ELO loudly until Sherlock covered his ears.


	2. Home Sweet Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riddick takes Sherlock into his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Track Northern Lights by Elias

A constant stream of cold, damp air flowed in through the partially opened driver’s window on Riddick’s side of the car, keeping him awake and ensuring he stayed alert as the torrential weather lashed at the car. The windscreen wipers were struggling to keep up. Riddick stole a quick glance at his passenger who was curled against the door with one arm cradling his head and the other hugging a car blanket he had wrapped himself up in over his chest.  
Night fell as the region grew more remote, the night sky deepened to a pure inky black, full of the bright pinpricks of a billion stars.  
Inside the car Riddick closed his window against the damp air and looked across at his silent companion as the Land Rover turned and drove slowly down a bumpy, overgrown track, hidden by untamed bushes and branches, barely wide enough for a vehicle to pass through. Riddick followed the long, winding track finally pulling to a stop before a small wooden self-built house as the head lights strangely illuminated it. The house was small and set low, rectangular in shape, with mismatched, windows of various sizes set into its weathered wooden walls and an old red painted door that had clearly come from salvage. The whole small house stood raised off the ground on a wrap around wooden deck. There was a solar panel mounted on the roof and a lean to porch was stacked to the roof with logs.

The heavy rain had just begun to start again, the long grass in the small clearing was sodden and the ground muddy and there was a bitter, cold wintery wind.  
“Fucking Hell it’s like the end of the world ! You wait here till I’ve shifted the supplies in. Bloody weather” Riddick swore as he ran from the car to the porch and fumbled up under the eaves for the old key on its black hook. He opened the door and left it banging wide open in the strong wind as he ran back to the old Land Rover. Opening the back he reached in and carried a deep box full of supplies into the house. He made a second trip to the car carrying his large army issue backpack and the sleeping bags into the house and dropping them on the floor.  
The rain was heavier now. Riddick slammed the back of the Land Rover shut as the wind sent an icy spray of rain into his face and blew the house door shut. He opened the passenger door and held it against the gusting wind and a slight figure got out of the passenger seat and ran for the house as the rain blew in sheets across the clearing.  
Inside the dark porch Riddick opened the old latched front door that had blown shut and the two stepped inside. There was a rhythmic shiver running through the slim body of the Omega.

“C’mon let’s get you warmed up.”  
Sherlock stood shivering unable to stop, looking around him at the one narrow room that served as both kitchen and main living space. The floor was wooden, made of reclaimed scaffolding boards that had the worn patina of age and use. The walls were whitewashed and there was a wood burning stove at the far end of the room near a shabby brown couch that had seen better days and an upturned wooden wine crate serving as a coffee table.  
The kitchen was just a few handmade cupboards, most without doors , an old white china Belfast sink standing on two legs made of bricks. The tap looked Victorian and the piping for the cold water ran along the walls. There was a small camping stove on the worktop, a small wooden table and two mismatched old chairs painted blue and in the wall an old pantry cupboard with marble shelving instead of a modern fridge.  
“Yeah this is pretty much it lad…… bathroom through there, old fashioned and basic but everything works.. Um…. the bedroom is there.”  
Riddick had knelt and was making short work of lighting a fire that was already set inside the wood burning stove. Inside his head Riddick was berating himself. You bloody fool Alan! The boy’s used to millionaire luxury and you bring him here! He probably never saw anywhere more basic in his life!

The dry moss and bracken Alan had used as kindling caught light quickly and he fed the fire carefully until the logs were catching and began to crackle and hiss as the flames took hold. Riddick stood and dusted his workmanlike hands with their calloused palms together.  
Sherlock looked exhausted and Riddick gave the boy his best reassuring smile.  
“It’s a work in progress for years now; I come down, stay, do some renovating whenever I have some free time. It’s not often I get a week off so I haven’t had the time to get much done.”  
Sherlock swayed on his feet, frowning slightly and Riddick felt a pang of guilt at how worn out the Omega was.  
Sherlock sat slumped as Riddick took the damp blanket from the boy’s shoulders and replaced it with his old army blanket from the back of the couch, wrapping it round the Omega’s thin shoulders.  
“Thank you.” Sherlock said quietly. The boy's quiet obedience disturbed Riddick.

Riddick glanced down at Sherlock’s pale face, noticing the smudges and marks of stress and sheer exhaustion under the boy’s beautiful blue eyes. It had been one Hell of a drive but Riddick hadn’t dared stop, he knew just how much power Magnussen and Mycroft Holmes had between them and he had been overly careful to leave no trace of their destination behind them.  
Sherlock was shivering again, Riddick ran a hand over the boy's closely shaved head, it was brutally short and Riddick wasn’t used to the lad’s frail beauty of bone structure and hollows yet. Alan had shaved the Omega’s head himself, desperate to hide Sherlock’s beauty from watching eyes, but it seemed nothing could do that owing to his striking features, Riddick swallowed hard to chase away that thought and stood.

“Cuppa I think.” Riddick filled the battered old kettle and placed it on the old gas camping stove.  
“I can get the cups?” Sherlock offered.  
“Mugs lad…. we’re common as muck here!” Riddick grinned joking. “You stay put just this once.” Riddick began unpacking the supply box, shoving tins and jars of food randomly into the cupboard as the kettle began to whistle and boil.  
“Let me help, please?” Sherlock was there, stood wrapped in Riddick’s old green army blanket , swaying wearily as he opened the huge box of tea bags and looking around in confusion when he couldn’t find a teapot.  
“Just poke a teabag in each mug.” Riddick watched as Sherlock did just that with his long fingers. Riddick fetched the kettle and poured milk into the bottom of each mug before topping up with boiling water. “There are some old plates in one of those cupboards and knives in that jam jar near the sink. Why don’t you set the table?” Riddick hid a smile as Sherlock found the right cupboard without needing to look around, the boy probably deduced it from the wear on the varnish or something.

Riddick placed bread, some ham and cheese on the table and took a seat, tearing the bread into pieces for himself and Sherlock with strong capable fingers. The Omega must have been starving but he barely ate and Riddick felt worried that Sherlock wasn’t feeling calm enough to eat a decent meal in days.  
“I have a solar panel fixed up on the roof, rigged it last time I was here so the house has enough electricity to be off grid.”  
“You did that?” Sherlock seemed impressed.  
“Basic electric, yeah wasn’t too hard. There’s plenty more work needs doing, you can help me if you want?”  
Sherlock nodded.  
Riddick took another mouthful of tea even though it was too hot. Taking a deep swallow he looked down into his half empty mug trying to find the right way to say what needed saying....if there even was a right way!  
Sherlock looked at him shyly. “You want to tell me something or ask me something?”  
“Aye lad, might have guessed you’d deduce the way things are…. bit of both. “Riddick’s fingers tightened on the handle of the mug. “I need you to stay close to me for the next few days. Just in case. Until I’m sure nobody knows where we are….but there’s no way they should. After that you can have more freedom. You aren't a prisoner .“  
Sherlock had a little crease of worry between his straight eyebrows. The boy had been sticking to Riddick like glue the last few days on the road and talking very little and Riddick knew he had been scared by Mycroft’s warnings about his oncoming heat as much as he was worried they would be found.

“Alan? What is it you aren’t saying?”  
“I was never planning on anyone coming here…... with me. Thought I would be on my own for the rest of my life,” Riddick said gruffly. “There’s only one bed. A double, more springs than mattress. If I had had more time to set everything up I would have …. You have the bed; I’ll kip on the floor.”  
“You drove us all the way here. If I’m tired you have to be exhausted?” Sherlock’s voice was quiet.  
“Dead tired lad.”  
“We can share the bed. “ Sherlock’s voice was flat but determined, as if he was not allowing himself give into fear.  
Alan swallowed hard. “You sure?”  
Sherlock nodded.  
“I’ll keep to one side you have my word, you know that I’m not like that?”  
“It’s ok.” Sherlock said awkwardly as his exhausted blue eyes flickered over Riddick’s face; he looked fit to fall over. “I don’t think I’d wake up if the roof fell in.”

Riddick stood up placing his and Sherlock’s plates in the sink, aware of a tense anxiety in his gut. “I’ll show you, and then you can get some sleep.” Riddick unlatched the bedroom door and had to duck through or bang his head on the door frame. The bedroom was tiny, barely bigger than the double bed; with a low slanted ceiling, the rough wooden walls had been painted an off white. The old double mattress stood in a homemade wooden frame that was low to the ground. On it were two flat white pillows and an old faded double duvet. A side table stood next to the bed with some well thumbed paperback books on it in a pile. There were nails banged into the walls at intervals to allow Riddick to hang clothes up on hangers.  
“It’s dark now but it gets the morning light.”  
Sherlock stared at the bed longingly, swaying unsteadily on his feet.  
“Come on, lets get you into bed. You look knackered.”  
Sherlock slumped down onto the mattress, uncharacteristically graceless, so tired he didn’t even try to undress as Alan checked Sherlock’s clothing for damp. “Take this off first lad it’s soaked through.” Sherlock moved slowly as he unzipped the black hoodie, he looked half asleep already, but obeying Alan was almost ingrained in the Omega after years of close contact.  
Riddick pulled both flat pillows over and waited until Sherlock was laid on his side, eyes already closing as Riddick pulled the duvet up around him. When Sherlock was covered Alan rose and closed the curtain so the boy could sleep.  
“I’ll be just next door. I’ll leave the door open; call out if you need me.” Riddick hesitated. “Sleep well.”  
Sherlock gave a soft sigh, turned his face into the pillow and shut down as the exhaustion claimed him.

Alan sat in the empty room next door, deep in thought, watching the flames flicker until he was sure the boy would be in a deep sleep only then did he unlace his black army boots and walk in socked feet into the bedroom. Riddick hesitated before laying his gun on the floor his side , he pulled off his belt but left his trousers and short sleeved T shirt on and sat on the edge of the bed as gently as he could before swinging his socked feet up.  
Sherlock’s eyes flicked open startled by the movement and Alan froze staying totally still as the Omega stared enigmatically at him while Alan held his breath, before Sherlock closed his eyes again.  
Alan did not sleep well.


	3. Morning Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock enjoys a normal morning for the first time in years

Riddick woke up late. He’d slept badly, so worried he’d freak Sherlock out with an innocently out flung arm while he was dreaming, or a roll over towards the boy as he tried to get comfortable, that he’d slept rigidly in the one position all night long like a corpse ….which was almost what he felt like this morning.  
Alan cleared his throat before he sat up, giving Sherlock some advance warning that he was awake. He’d watched Sherlock flinch violently awake in Magnussen’s bed enough times on the cam screens over the years, to know the boy reacted with an almost instinctive fear to any sudden moves. It had always reminded Alan of the way the foxes in the Wildlife Rescue Centre he had worked in after school when he was sixteen, had reacted to human contact….the same feral fear.

Riddick sat up , swung his feet off the bed onto the floor and stood , scrubbing a hand over his face, definitely time for a shave. He risked a glance back at the bed , expecting to see the lad curled up right on the furthest edge as he always was whenever Riddick had seen him asleep in a shared bed….to his shock the bed was empty.  
There was no sound of running water coming from the bathroom and Alan could hear no movement in the room next door. Riddick felt his army training kick in as he reached for his gun before moving to check. The bathroom was empty and so was the main living room, although there was a glass on the table, the front door was open wide and Riddick moved at speed for the doorway, taking a look out through the kitchen window as he passed by ….Sherlock was sat on the edge of the deck, his bare feet dangling, looking out over the hills in the distance.  
As Alan stared Sherlock stretched out a hand and touched it to the white seed heads of the long grasses as they blew in the breeze, moving like ocean waves, rippling and swaying. Alan couldn’t remember ever seeing Sherlock outside on his own before and the sight filled him with an almost irrational fear that he struggled to control.  
This was what a normal life was ….the freedom to just open a door and step outside on one of the last sunny days of autumn as the foliage began to change. Magnussen had never allowed Sherlock that small freedom, insisting that the Omega was escorted by an armed guard even in the huge walled gardens of his private estates.  
Sherlock’s shaved head gave him a whole new fragile beauty and where the neck of his grey sweatshirt bagged down Alan could clearly see the boy’s raw bond bite with its welted old white scars, blood filled puncture wounds and livid bruising.

Alan watched as Sherlock stood up and leapt off the wooden deck, running as fast as he could away from the house, out into the sea of grass.... one minute he was there running and the next instant he had gone, sprawling forward and disappearing!  
Oh shit! Had he fallen? Alan raced out the house, over the decking and hurtled into the long grass , following the long indented line of Sherlock’s run.  
“Sherlock! Sherlock you ok?” Alan was yelling. There was a flash of movement as Sherlock sat up. “Fuck lad! Are you hurt?”  
Alan crouched down on his heels and resisted the stupid urge to grab the Omega and run hands over him to check nothing was broken or bleeding.  
Sherlock’s blue eyes were full of a wild, crazy exhilaration that Riddick had never seen in them before and his breathing was fast and breathless. “Did you see? It’s like the sea, all the grass moving, it’s beautiful!”  
Alan grinned back even as his worried eyes found a bloody graze on the boy’s elbow.  
“Nutter!” Riddick said affectionately. “C’mon, I’ll teach you how to cook porridge.”  
Sherlock scrambled fluidly to his feet, rubbing at his elbow. “I can’t cook, you do know that? I’ll probably poison you!”  
“Doubt it lad, cast iron stomach me.” Alan scoffed.  
Sherlock smirked.” That’s not even possible medically; don’t blame me if you spend all day puking after eating.”  
“You’re not getting out of it that easy….I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.”  
“Now whose crazy!” Sherlock flipped back over his shoulder and Alan found himself smiling.

Sherlock’s porridge wasn’t actually that bad, a bit lumpy in parts where it had stuck to the bottom of the saucepan but Alan had eaten a lot worse and went back for seconds.  
“You really like it?” Sherlock sounded dubious.  
“Waste not want not lad, as my old mum used to say.” Alan spoke round a spoonful.  
Sherlock looked into his quarter eaten bowl and shrugged. “ I can’t finish it all.” He sounded apologetic.  
“That’s fine, least you ate something. Billy never ate much……” Alan stopped talking abruptly and Sherlock looked up. Alan could see the question in the boy’s face but, bless him, he didn’t ask it and Riddick was grateful for that.  
Alan stood and reached for the bowls. “You cooked so I’ll wash.” He could hear the gruff emotion in his own voice and he moved away quickly, concentrating on scrubbing the pan methodically to keep his thoughts in the here and now.

He was surprised when Sherlock reached for the tea towel and began to dry the dishes. “I used to dry up sometimes at home. At the weekends Mummy always let Mrs Brown go see her father in the nursing home, he was ninety four….Mycroft washed up and I dried and put away.”  
“Mrs Brown was ?” Alan asked.  
“Our house keeper, she made amazing cakes. That’s how Mycroft got so fat.” Sherlock sounded so nostalgic Alan almost hugged him.  
“Your brother was fat? Now that I’d like to see!” Riddick said disbelievingly.  
Sherlock’s answering smile was wicked. “He was! He was actually squishy round his belly.”  
Alan laughed and felt the shadow of his past release him.


	4. Samir's Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised....John Watson......

It was almost midnight and inside Berlin’s most exclusive hotel the Adlon Kempinski the bonding party was in full swing. Alphas’ from Germany and Austria’s long established Elite families, all in formal black dinner jackets, evaluated the value and qualities of the nervous Omega teens that clustered together under the sparkling crystal chandeliers.  
Downstairs John Watson, disguised as a maintenance man, didn’t even glance upward at the famous blue and white glass dome of the hotel’s lobby as he moved with an almost animalistic athleticism across the marble floor. As he drew level with the concierge the Beta man gave John a respectful smile and slid a key card over the reception desk. John caught it and gave a nod as he pocketed it and moved towards the lifts.  
Inside the lift which was marked UNDER REPAIR John found, as he knew he would, a black sports holdall and he knelt and efficiently checked its contents before placing it over one shoulder and exiting the lift, which was in perfect working order, on the top floor.  
Through the windows John could see the green lead horses and charioteer atop the Brandenburg Gate as he moved down the packed corridor to his suite of rooms. At the end of the long corridor a bearded Alpha was running hot hands over the Omega he had just bought the rights to and to John’s left another Alpha had forced his Omega up against the wall and was scenting his neck, the boy looked petrified. John’s back was straight as he moved past them and knocked twice on the door to Suite 300 with his knuckles…. the door was opened a mere crack to check who was there before letting John inside.

Saul Jefferson, journalist for Sky News, was heading to his suite late, he had a early flight to catch tomorrow and a to do list as long as his arm to get through before he flew out. Fumbling in his pocket for the keys to Room 301 he dropped his jacket on the bed before moving to the mini bar. It wasn’t until he had a lager opened that he turned and he saw someone in the shadows.  
“I’ve a silencer on the gun. Don’t do anything stupid.” The threat was clear and unambiguous.  
“Who the Hell are you and what are you doing in my room?”  
“John…. I’m here because I’ve somebody I want you to interview in the room next door to this.”  
“I don’t conduct interviews at gunpoint…not interested.  
“You will be,” John’s voice was filled with certainty and displayed no sign of disappointment and there wasn’t even a small tremor in the hand that was aiming a gun at him. “Come meet him and find out.”  
He gestured with the gun and Saul had no choice but to obey walking through the interconnected doors, that should have been shut, that linked Room 300 and Room 301.  
“You knew I’d be here, you had this all planned?”  
“It wasn’t hard. This is Samir. Take a seat Saul.”  
An Omega no older than his mid-twenties was sat in darkness by the window.  
Saul sat on the couch, where a camera was already pointed, set up to record everything. “Who are you and why are you doing this?”  
“My second name is Watson….” John waited.  
“You’re him… you’re THE John Watson? “ John nodded. In the flesh the infamous John Watson had disarmingly friendly hazel eyes and a boyish smile…. the rest of his face remained hidden behind a ski mask. The steel in his voice and the compact, muscular Alpha body suggested hidden strength. “God why didn’t you say so, of course I’ll interview you, its front page gold!” Saul was incredulous, John Watson was almost legendary, his face had never been seen but his demands and protest actions on behalf of Omegas’ had ignited a fire across Europe that strongly divided public opinion.

“The interview isn’t with me. Your name was put forward by a friend who says you have pro Omega sympathies? You had an Omega birth mother?”  
“I don’t hide that fact….either fact… yes.”  
“Good. If you’re interested this could be a more permanent deal.”  
" Exclusive stories… pictures…with you? God I’m interested, who wouldn’t be?”

John nodded. “Samir could you come here please?”  
Saul’s curious eyes turned to the Omega; the young man had covered his face with a scarf and wore dark tinted glasses.  
“You sit here Samir, in the shadow. Just speak from the heart…. Ok Saul you have five minutes to read through this background dossier and five to shape an interview, then we get started….and Saul…one wrong move towards Samir and it’ll be the last you ever make.” John said with his disarming open smile.

 

“Hello. I’m Saul Jefferson and this interview is being conducted under duress. There is a gun literally pointed right at me. “Saul paused and took a sip of water as though his mouth was suddenly too dry. “ With me is a bonded Elite Omega, Samir, and John Watson of the Pro-Omega movement.  
“Samir you’re from Algeria? “  
“ I was…. I’ve lived here in Germany for seven years.”  
“Your German is flawless. Have you family here?”  
“I have nobody here….this is where my Alpha lives. I didn’t speak any German when I came to live here.”  
“ That had to be difficult? What was home like ?”  
“It was my home….my family meant everything to me….my brothers and sisters, my mother and father were all I knew. Our house was my world ”  
“You sound like you miss them? “  
“Every day of my life , it’s a pain in my heart nothing can heal.”

“Tell us about your Alpha , what kind of a man was he , how did you meet?”  
“My father posted my photo on an Alpha Omega match site. Karl…my Alpha….found me there. “Samir’s voice became quiet.  
“He proposed a match?”  
“He asked my father. Bond money was agreed before I ever saw Karl.”  
“How old were you Samir?”  
“I was almost eighteen.”  
“And Carl?” Saul’s voice was compassionate.  
“Fifty two.”  
“That’s a huge age gap? Did you think that was ok?”  
“I had ….no choice. Nobody cared what I thought. Nobody even asked me.”

“Did he treat you well? You were a teenager in a foreign country, you didn’t even speak the language? Was Carl kind to you , did he understand?”  
Samir’s hesitation was clear. “He started out kind. It didn’t last past a month.”  
“What happened? “  
“He was jealous. If I spoke to any Alpha he would shout at me. He wouldn’t let me leave our home , even to do shopping without him being with me, he locked me in when he left for work ….I was alone all day. I watched TV but he stopped that because he said I looked at other Alpha .”  
“Other Alphas' on TV? “  
“Yes. On TV shows or even on the news. “  
“He was very possessive?”  
“I didn’t look at other Alpha, he said I was a slut hungry for cock , like all Omega. He started making me sit on a chair all day, I had to stay there or he’d beat me. I sat there from nine until six every day. He had a camera, if I moved outside the times he said I could, he always knew.”

Saul’s voice was kind. “ Did his abuse stop there?”  
“No ….if I disobeyed he wouldn’t allow me to go and pee. After a few hours that really hurts, you can't hold it all day, but if I soiled I was beaten.”  
“He said when and if you could urinate?”  
“He controlled everything, my day, what I wore, what I could do, who I saw, if I ate or drank ….everything.”

“That sounds more like a prison than a loving bond. Were you unhappy? You must have felt so alone?”  
“I cried every day, I wanted to go home. I tried to make Carl happy but…” Samir’s voice was filled with sorrow.  
“Things got worse for you …much worse…didn’t they?”  
Samir’s voice shook as he answered. “Carl moved his mother, Anika, in with us. She made me work like a dog and hit me with a hairbrush if I did anything wrong. Once she hit me over the head so hard I needed stitches……”

“Carl allowed this to happen?”  
“She told him I was a lazy Omega whore and he needed to take a strong stand. He made me kneel on the floor, he would put his feet up on my back and watch porn, I wasn’t allowed to sit on the couches , he began beating me for even small things. ”  
“Such as?”  
“One time he left a tissue in his trouser pocket, I didn’t see it and the washing was covered in white tissue, ruined ….I spent hours trying to pick every piece off the clothes but Anika said she had told me to open the pockets and I was too lazy. Carl gave me no food for four days and beat me with a stick….I don’t know where he got it from. I think he bought it.” Samir’s voice still sounded afraid. “We moved to Dubai , we had an enclosed house and a pool . I was never allowed outside anymore, not even with Carl. …One day the pool cleaner spoke to me about going on vacation ….Anika told Carl I was flirting with him, that I was making eyes at him….she poured petrol over me and set it alight. I was screaming, running, my clothes were on fire, my hair was burning … I fell into the pool….if I had not been near water I would have died.”

Behind Saul’s shoulder John altered the lighting so Samir’s face was seen for the first time as they had agreed beforehand. The light showed clearly the horrific disfiguring burns covering Samir’s head and neck and disappearing under his clothes, his fingers were fused together as one and he had no eyelids or ears left. “ I have 70% full thickness burns. If John had not helped me I would be dead. I wanted to die. Some days I still want to die. I can't even look at myself."

The tears were flowing now as John came forward and sat next to Samir, one strong arm around the Omega. “THIS is the reality behind bond matches. Young Omega boys bought and sold like animals. Taken from all they know…. isolated, abused… many raped, beaten, murdered…. forced to bear child after child ….without a single protective law in place they are incredibly vulnerable.” John’s conviction, his strength and dedication were clear in his voice. “The Omega living like this are not strangers, they are our grandchildren, our sons, our brothers, our family …. our friends…. the people we love lost to us forever…It is time to say no! It’s time we were outraged and it’s past bloody time we stood up, demanded to be heard and put a stop to this miserable trade in teenage boys!”


	5. Sherlock Reads Porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finds Riddick's stash of porn.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any lines being read aloud are in CAPS

Alan had fallen asleep on top of the duvet, even though he now always wore clothes in the shared bed, the cold still woke him up to find that Sherlock hadn’t even slept yet. The lamp was still on and the young Omega sat on the bed his long legs tucked into a cross legged position, that Alan knew his own body would never have managed without dislocating something.

The old long sleeved black T shirt of Alan’s that Sherlock was wearing as a PJ top was endearingly baggy on the boy’s slim frame and Alan could see the bones of Sherlock’s shoulders moving as the lad giggled. Only then did Alan see the boy was reading one of the paperback books from Alan’s side of the bed....wait!.... what!.... He was what !.... Holy Hell!  
Alan turned his head and took a desperate tally of the books still there, trying to work out exactly which of his well-thumbed collection of Alpha/Omega porn Sherlock was currently reading just as Sherlock felt the old mattress dip and realised Alan was awake.

“It’s Take My Knot,” Sherlock’s voice was full of irrepressible laughter as he deduced Alan’s quiet panic from one glance at the Alpha’s face. “It’s simultaneously the best and the worst book I have ever read.”  
Alan had been caught reading Alpha/Omega porn three times in his life to date….once when he was 13 by his older brother ( that had got him a clip around the head ) , once by his aunt who forgot to knock and found him wanking ( she’d shut the door very fast and hadn’t looked him in the eyes for six months) and once by his bastard of a step dad ( whack around the head and several rib punches)….nothing had prepared him for the sheer bloody awkwardness of finding Sherlock sat in PJ’s on the end of Alan’s bed reading one of his porn books! Alan felt his whole face blush beet.

“Listen to this,” Sherlock’s slightly hysterical voice announced and Alan was speechless as the lad began to read aloud. “ JAMIE LICKED HIS LIPS AS HE SAW ROCK'S HEAVY DANGLING PLUMS AND THE DUSTY PEACH OF HIS UNCUT COCK ….…. THE ALPHA'S KNOT, ORANGE SIZED TO BEGIN WITH, HAD NOW SWOLLEN TO THE SIZE OF A GRAPEFRUIT!..... Why is this all so fruit based ….is he a greengrocer?”  
Alan groaned weakly and hid behind his hand.  
“This next bit is insane "…..FUCK ME ! FUCK ME! FUCK ME!.....Sherlock paused for dramatic effect….FUCK ME !....."He sounds like a cheerleader!" Sherlock’s accent suddenly became Californian "…..F_U_C_K..... C'mon and fuck me every way! Fuck me! ".... Sherlock waved his arms in the air above his head in an approximation of the letters as he chanted.  
Alan’s whole body was shaking with laughter. “Christ lad!”

“Ha! Let’s act it ?” Sherlock sounded so hopeful and excited as he spun around cross legged to face Alan.  
“What? ….” Alan felt like his brain was still playing catch up as Sherlock slid off the bed and ran into the kitchen , returning with a tea towel as he bounced back onto the bed .  
“Put this on your head.”  
Alan blinked and quick as a flash Sherlock had the tea towel draped over Alan’s own brown hair. Alan realised he literally had no idea why!  
“Right, “ Sherlock looked at Alan critically and twitched the cloth back a little before swivelling round and flopping back against the bed head , leaning close to Alan’s shoulder , book in hand. “ Ok you read Jamie, I’ll read Rock.”  
“Hold on, “ Alan said puzzled . “Isn’t Jamie the Omega?”  
“ Yes….that’s why you are wearing tea towel hair.” Sherlock said impatiently.

Alan hadn’t realised that! “ Hang on , why don’t you have a costume?”  
“Oh for Christ’s sake!” Sherlock flung himself sideways over Alan’s belly and leant right over the edge of the bed, reaching underneath it with two searching hands. Alan grabbed at the lad’s back before he fell off the bed onto the floor, the all too brief touch of Sherlock’s body against his own and the flash of bare skin along Sherlock’s back as the T shirt rode up, was over before he even had a chance to feel what having the boy touch him was truly like, as Sherlock emerged triumphant with Alan’s discarded socks from under the bed , which he balled up and stuffed up his sleeves to approximate Alpha muscle. “Ok now I’ve got biceps!”  
Sherlock’s head settled back into position as he angled the book so they both could read. “Can you see the words?”  
“Yeah.” Alan sounded a little breathless , even to himself.  
“Ok …you start .” Sherlock jabbed a long finger under the text.  
Alan couldn’t believe he was actually going to try this but what the heck!  
“OH ROCK….” Alan began in his normal Northern accented voice.  
Sherlock was laughing so madly he almost couldn’t breathe “Omg you’re meant to be Omega ….you have to sound less ….you!”  
Alan grinned as he aimed for a high shrieking falsetto. It wasn’t entirely successful as his voice cracked alarmingly but Sherlock was crying laughing and that was worth making any kind of fool out of himself! “ OHHHHH ROCK… YOU’RE SO BIG , IT MUST BE FIFTEEN INCHES ? IT'S ALMOST TO YOUR KNEES!......Bloody Rock's got a elephant dick!” Alan grumbled in his normal voice  
Sherlock pulled at the book to see. “ IS IT BIG ENUF FOR YA LITTLE BOY !” He read in a voice that was perfect were he a Neanderthal cave dweller with a brain the size of a pea.  
“I’ve a bloody good mind to say no! “ Alan laughed before flicking the ends of his tea towel hair and blowing exaggerated kisses Sherlock’s way. “OHHHH ROCK ….WHAT A COCK!”  
“Poetic!” Sherlock proclaimed admiringly. “ LET DADDY SEE THOSE BIG NIPPLES BABY BOY!” Sherlock was almost unable to read the line as he laughed helplessly.

Alan grinned wickedly and stuck both hands into the singlet he wore in bed, sticking up his index fingers and twisting them round in fast circles over his chest. “ THESE LITTLE PUPPIES ?” He said archly.  
Sherlock convulsed against him, doubled up laughing. “That’s so not in the book!” Sherlock made a grab for the page to see.  
“Should be…. plus it’s, what do actors call it …. improv! “ Alan said smugly and wriggled both fingers towards Sherlock. “Look the nipples like you!”

Sherlock gave a huge orgasmic sounding groan.....AHHHHHH!!!!..... for his line before smiling wickedly at Alan as he pushed one hand down to his own crotch, made a fist , raised a finger and faked getting an erection.  
“And just what the Hell is that meant to be?” Alan laughed.  
“Knot,” Sherlock said triumphantly waving his fist in the air…. “and cock!” The Omega put up his middle finger and wriggled it Alan’s way. “ Or as the book is calling it ….Rock’s man’ana!”  
“His bloody what?” Alan was choking with laughter.  
“You never read this entire book did you?” Sherlock questioned Riddick with an angelic smile on his face.  
“I may have skipped parts.” Alan was unrepentant and unabashed.  
“It’s like a banana but….more fruit porn….a man...nana …get it? “ Sherlock collapsed against Alan’s shoulder weakly.

“Oh God it hurts to laugh this much! Please tell me you’ve more porn?” Sherlock’s voice was ecstatic. “I want to read it all!”  
“God help me , “ Alan said succinctly. “Your brother is going to kill me!”


	6. Deep In Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft worries.....constantly

Mycroft Holmes lent his aching head back against the fine cream leather headrest of the chauffeur driven car and waited patiently for the migraine medication he had swallowed before leaving home to numb the vicious pain that was blurring his vision and leaving him slightly breathless. He knew stress to be the cause of this latest headache, Sherlock’s heat was little more than two weeks away and Mycroft still had no idea where his younger brother was living or under what circumstances. Riddick had simply vanished and taken Sherlock into oblivion with him and Mycroft had been suffering from an onslaught of migraines since their disappearance.  
Closing his eyes to shut out the early morning light helped for a brief few moments before Mycroft recalled the misplaced confidence in Alan Riddick’s accented voice as the man insisted “ I won’t hurt him.”  
The last sighting of the Alpha guard and Sherlock had been alarming , CTV images from a supermarket in Finland had revealed a frail Sherlock with a brutally shaved head and unfamiliar clothes. The height, weight and muscular disparity between the strong Alpha guard and Sherlock was all too clear and Mycroft knew that should Riddick lose control of himself Sherlock would have no hope of defending himself. It was a scenario that haunted Mycroft.

A week ago Mycroft had tracked down Alan Riddick’s elder brother to a squalid high rise flat in Birmingham in an effort to find out any information on the man. It had been a depressing meeting. Alan’s brother was clearly an alcoholic and from the jaundiced look of both his skin and the yellowed whites of his eyes didn’t have long to live. The offer of money had motivated the man to talk yet he had known nothing of Alan’s whereabouts.  
Mycroft had watched as the man weaved his way back to the threadbare couch , can of special brew in one hand .

“ What do the likes of you want with Alan?”  
Mycroft’s clever eyes didn’t move yet they took in every small filthy detail of the drinkers appearance from the urine droplet stains on the baggy jeans to the recent weight loss. “ My teenage Omega brother is currently in his company.”  
The dirty laugh the man gave made Mycroft’s fingers tighten around the handle of his umbrella.  
“Pretty little lad is he ? This brother of yours?”  
Mycroft’s answering nod was bleak.  
“Always had a thing for Omega Alan....don’t think he ever dated a woman, though plenty of the local lasses tried. He could have had any of them but nope....he wasn’t bothered.”  
“He was bonded?” Mycroft hoped for any information .He heard the heavy slurp as the man took a deep gulp from the can.  
“I’d keep off that subject if you catch up with him....the last man to mention Billy got his ribs cracked.”  
“For what reason?”  
“Best ask my brother that....he broke four of my ribs. I’ve no more to say than that. Alan’s a temper once it goes....saw too much of it growing up, we all did but Alan copped the worst of it.”  
“Could he harm my brother?”  
“An Omega? No , like I told you, he’s a thing for Omega , always has done. If he likes your brother it’d be the first time he’s been with anyone since Billy.”

In the small lift on the way down with its sharp smell of urine Mycroft had a sudden painful memory of the past , when he was twenty one... returning home on the late train , feeling soiled and humiliated , all his confidence in the structures of Elite Alpha society shattered under the realisation it was all self perpetuating and corrupt.  
Sherlock had been waiting up for him, laid on his flat belly on Mycroft’s bed in his pyjamas, with one of Mycroft’s old university text books open beside him.  
When an exhausted, uncharacteristically crumpled Mycroft had opened the door he had found his room saturated with the unfamiliar vanilla rich scent that seemed to come from Sherlock’s delicate skin and Sherlock had only needed a momentary look before he knew without being told that they had lost . Mycroft had seen from the unguarded shock on his brother’s young face that Sherlock had never believed Mycroft would lose , his faith in him always being able to fix any problem had been absolute.

It was the fracturing of that boyhood innocence and trust that had broken Mycroft, he had never cried before or since but he had then, sat on the end of his bed in the room that had been his since childhood , wearing his shirt and trousers with both hands fisted in his hair and the unfamiliar choking pain of his own sobbing wedged hard in his throat as Sherlock had hugged him tight, both arms thrown round Mycroft’s shaking shoulders and his slim body pressed to Mycroft’s side , his own hot tears soaking wet through Mycroft’s pin striped shirt....the mouth watering, enticing scent of Omega , with its betrayal of everything Sherlock could have, should have been, filling Mycroft’s throat , making him simultaneously want to gulp mouthfuls down and to rail and shout and lose his temper at the sheer bloody unfairness and cruelty of it all.


	7. The Old East End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The East End has long been a place where sin and wickedness can be indulged in by the wealthy....

At this late hour even some London streets are still and silent. Once there had been row upon row of two up, two down Victorian houses with bow windows on this spot, then the dark nights of the blitz had come and with it the German bombers that followed the silvery trail of the River Thames into the heart of London’s old East End with its slumbering dock workers and market traders. After the bodies had been removed from the rubble that was once crowded family homes, the weeds and blood red poppies had taken over and the children had played there for years , scavenging for metal and bomb shell remants, until the boom years of the sixties. One half of London’s infamous Kray twins had bought one of the newly built modern flats here then when everything seemed bright and new and full of young vibrant energy but now the building and street had fallen into disrepair.

Nevertheless, the man who emerged from the silver car was wearing a decent suit and carried a briefcase as he walked across the courtyard and rang the buzzer for admittance to one of the many flats inside the block. A short conversation over the silver intercom and the door was opened for him.  
Along the wide corridor every door looked the same and the plastered walls were in dire need of repainting, there was a man smoking a cigarette outside flat 7 and as the suited gentleman approached he nodded and opened wide the door.

Inside was a narrow hallway with a red paper lantern lampshade hanging from the ceiling and a statue of a naked youth stood next to an artificial bamboo plant. The Beta lady who emerged smiling would clearly have been a natural blond in her youth but now relied upon the bottle and a heavy handed application of make-up. Lacking in height she wore black patent stiletto shoes with a pointed toe and had her hair piled up to add the illusion of another inch. She exuded the glamour of another era.  
“Welcome back Jeffrey, it’s so good to see you again. May I tempt you with a drink?” Her voice revealed her Cockney roots although she had worked hard to eradicate all traces.  
“ A gin and tonic would be good. Is the boy we spoke of available?”  
“He is of course and waiting for you as instructed.”  
The Elite Alpha nodded and gave a cold smile.  
“I think you will find him to your satisfaction.”  
“I’m sure I shall” The Alpha removed a fat envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it over with a cynical smile. “Has the cock slut got a name?”  
“Justin... I took the liberty of placing him in the red room. I hope that is agreeable to you? Do as you wish with him, it will all be dealt with after. No need to trouble yourself”  
“Thank you my dear.... I look forward to it after the day I have had at work.”

 

When the Alpha opened the door to the red room with its scarlet walls adorned with hanging whips and equipment and big black, satin sheeted, BDSM bed he was already breathing heavily and the sight of a naked school boy spread wide and held down with black leather and chrome cuffs and chains upon the mattress was arousing., The boy’s tie was still around his neck and the scared sound of him thrashing as he tried to free himself made the Alpha's cock thicken and stiffen almost instantly. As requested the boy wore a ball gag through which his terrified whimpering could be heard quite clearly. The Alpha stripped quickly laying his suit upon the black throne until he was naked, his thick erection rubbing hard against his own soft untoned belly.

“Stop whimpering you dirty little Omega whore . The fun hasn’t even started yet.” The Alpha stepped forward to the wall and choose a small bull whip made of plaited leather and swung it experimentally through the air. “ We’ll start with your back , lets see how prettily your skin peels off shall we my dear? Daddy will make you scream.”

“I prefer a bit more foreplay myself!” John’s voice was deceptively affable but the hazel eyes behind the black mask were cold and angry.  
“God Damn it ! Who the bloody Hell are you!” The Alpha’s anger was silenced as soon as he saw the metal barrel of the gun in John’s hand .  
“Names John. Sit your perverted arse down.... the throne will do.” John walked forward and kept coming as the naked Alpha backed away until the man could back up no more. John made an impatient gesture with the gun towards the seat.  
“You insolent bastard of a common Alpha. Do you have any idea who I am!” The Elite Alpha’s arrogance was contemptuous.” You’ll pay for this...”  
To his surprise the masked man gave a broad smile. “I know exactly who you are and what you do....why else do you think I’m here? Now sit down!”  
The hazel eyes were unflinching and filled with deadly threat as the man crouched and secured the naked Alpha into place with the cuffs at wrist and ankle before adding the throat restraint as the Alpha choked.  
“ Not enjoying that much are you?” John asked. “You used this in the last movie but then it wasn’t around your own throat in that instance was it?”  
There was a shocked rigid silence.  
“ You can hop up off the bed now Justin and spit the gag out.” John’s voice was warm and friendly. The Omega on the bed slipped easily out of the loose restraints , spat out the ball gag and gave a wink at the Alpha tied down in the throne, now the furious Elite Alpha could see his face it was obvious the Omega was no school boy but in his early twenties.”You did a great job , just brilliant. Bab’s will make sure you get home safe.”  
The smile the Omega gave John was huge.

“We met at the Cenotaph last year Minister ...though you were wearing a lot more clothing then and a remembrance day poppy....although to be fair it is hard to know where you could stick one right now.”  
“Who the buggering bloody fuck are you?” The Alpha demanded to know.  
“John Watson...” John watched the Alpha’s jaw drop open and the look of fear that crossed the man’s cruel face.... “Lets discuss your little liking for making Omega snuff movies shall we?” 

 

The sound of heavy blows and pained cries echoed down the red carpeted corridor along with the slapping, meaty sound of fist meeting flesh repeatedly before John emerged rolling down the sleeves of his beige jumper and tucking his sig into the back of his dark denim jeans.  
Pulling out her mobile phone the woman dialled a number and when it was answered held the phone out for John to take the call.  
“ DI Lestrade. Did you find the bastard?”  
“It’s done Greg. Flat 7 Khartoum Road....I left the DVD footage of him with the murdered Omega boys’ in a bag on the bed for you. The confession is filmed. Be sure it makes the news tomorrow morning.”  
“Will do. Bloody Hell John I can’t believe you got the sick bastard for us! Squad car is on the way, you’d best get out of there.”

John held open the door as the lady who had admitted the Elite Alpha to the brothel earlier that same night put on her coat and reapplied her bright red lipstick in her compact mirror ...once outside she lit a cigarette before crossing the road to a waiting taxi as the faint noise of an approaching police car grew closer and John nodded to her before strolling away along the road as though he hadn’t a care in the world.


	8. Sleepless Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock can't sleep .

Sherlock couldn't sleep. The room was quiet except for Alan’s slow, relaxed breathing but there was a full moon, the thin curtains just couldn't keep the room dark and it was too bright…. when Sherlock held up a hand he could see his long thin fingers clearly in the pale, bluish white light.  
Riddick lay asleep on his back on his side of the shared bed. The dark green singlet he’d worn to bed in looked almost black in the different light, his taut belly ran flat and muscled down to the trousers he was wearing, although he had removed his belt as a concession to comfort.  
Sherlock doubted very much that Alan had slept in his clothes before sharing his bed with Sherlock....so he knew Riddick was avoiding a situation in which Sherlock would see him naked .... possibly, no almost certainly, because he was worried about just how badly Sherlock might react to his nudity.  
Sherlock felt guilty about that and guilty about the fact that Alan wouldn't allow himself to sleep under the duvet of his own bed even when it was cold. The sad truth was that Sherlock didn't even know himself how he would feel if Alan didn't wear clothes to bed. Even though he hadn’t asked the Alpha to do so there was no doubt in Sherlock’s mind that it made him feel a little safer .... which was ridiculous as it was the work of a moment to strip if Alan wanted to do to him what Mycroft said he would. Sherlock had woken up lots of times to find Charles stood by his bed, undressing silently , ready to fuck him ....NO! STOP THINKING LIKE THAT! STOP REMEMBERING .... STOP IT RIGHT NOW!

Sherlock slid carefully out of bed, it wasn't hard to not to wake Riddick, as Sherlock always slept right on the very edge of the mattress. His bare, highly arched feet made no sound on the wooden floor boards but opening the bedroom door was harder as the latch was noisy and stiff and Sherlock held his breath as he eased the latch up with his thumb to lessen any noise.  
The sitting room was darker and colder and Sherlock took the heavy blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped himself up in it before curling up on the couch in a ball. All the thoughts he had held back so many times in the day pressed in on him now, overwhelming him.  
Sherlock knew he was breathing shallowly, blinking, his throat aching and raw as he tried not to cry, trying not to remember the very worst things. The voices in his head that never wanted to shut up called him whore and slut and jeered when he tried to get away from Charles.  
And here they came, the stupid hateful pointless tears that he couldn’t stop. God it was pathetic.... truly pathetic, that he couldn't even control this enough to stop it, as he heard his breathing thicken and wiped at each tear as it ran down his high, angled cheekbones and he made sure to keep quiet. 

 

Sherlock could already feel it, the small changes in his mood that were the first signs of his heat cycle beginning all over again…the down days came more often now and he couldn’t seem to shift a black mood for longer. He knew he was quieter. Depressed. He knew he was scared. He wished he had suppressants even if they were illegal ones, anything that could stop this before the pains started, before his own stupid body ruined everything with his slick and his scent and his need to be filled.  
Sherlock knew how the changes in his scent made Charles react, The Alpha became brusquely, violently demanding, forcing himself on and into him repeatedly throughout the night. If Alan became like that……Sherlock shook his head desperately trying to stop his line of thought before it crushed him. Alan had said he wouldn’t…. and Sherlock made himself remember that time in the heat suite when Alan had peeled back the heat patch and buried his face on the bite on Sherlock’s nape without hurting him just to “ know” him while his warm fingers stroked Sherlock’s skin.

Alan had promised it would be alright and he’d sounded sure but Mycroft had sounded surer and Sherlock knew Mycroft was right almost every time about everything. Sherlock knew Alan had never been around him as he went into heat without wearing a heat suppressant patch, sometimes the guard had even worn two at a time. Usually all the guards wore one at least a week before Sherlock’s actual heat to be sure they weren’t affected. This time there would be no patches and Sherlock had no idea where he was going to spend his heat or how it was going to all be okay.

Sherlock felt so tired and so old inside his head and Riddick was kinder than any of the other guards had ever been and he had risked his life to help Sherlock and he spoke to him gently always like Sherlock could break if he didn’t…. but there was more to all the things an Alpha wanted with an Omega than just company and talking. Sherlock knew better than anyone what they really wanted and what they’d do to him to get it. 

Sometimes Sherlock saw more in the Alpha’s eyes and the way he smiled, than just kindness and Sherlock didn't know how to deal with what he saw there .... he didn't know how to deal with Alan’s hope or his love.  
Hope… wasn't an emotion Sherlock felt any more and he hadn’t for a long time. Charles had been quick to see where Sherlock had kept even a little hope hidden away and he would expose it, ridicule it, belittle it, tease until Sherlock felt naive and vulnerable, almost ashamed of himself for still being so stupid as to think anything would ever get any better when all it ever did was get worse. Maybe now he was free he still didn’t feel right…but maybe his life wasn't ever going to be any better than this .... whatever this was .... that he had now.  
Love …. love was terrifying, worst of all because it laid you bare but still you felt it and couldn’t stop even when it came to nothing. When Sherlock had been pregnant he’d tried not to get attached, when the pup kicked and wriggled or the outline of its tiny foot showed through Sherlock’s belly he had ignored it. When Charles had stroked hands over the compact tight bump Sherlock had looked away. When the midwife had asked him if he wanted to hold his son Sherlock had said no so fast she had barely finished speaking. Yet still he had longed for his son and in the end all the avoidance was for nothing, one hug of that surprisingly heavy little body and Sherlock had fallen in love. Now it hurt and there was nothing he could do to make it stop.  
Sherlock turned onto his side, back to the room and closed his eyes. The front door to his childhood home was open and Redbeard was laid on the front door mat in the sun, his wine red coat full of dust from the gravel drive he had rolled in. He’d loved the dog too and he’d lost him, put to sleep Mummy had said as though a euphemism made things less painful. Sherlock knew he could never get to touch Redbeard in the memory house, whenever he tried in the past the dog had always vanished .Once Sherlock’s hand had been so close , the slight curl in the dogs wavy coat had been right under Sherlock’s out stretched palm before there was nothing and Sherlock had been so angry he’d stormed out and slammed the front door so hard the whole house had shaken as though it could fall.  
Sherlock wouldn’t make that same mistake now , he sat down just inside the front door and watched Redbeard’s ribs rise and fall until Sherlock felt sleepy and slumped against the door frame as his eyes began to close , until finally he slept.


	9. Mycroft  and Scotland Yards Finest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The police are called to a reported break in at a house in a very exclusive part of London.  
> Mycroft Holmes is clearly hiding something and DI Greg Lestrade has every intention of finding out just what that something may be....

DI Greg Lestrade stared up at the impressive, tall frontage of the Chester Street townhouse as he pulled up to the kerb. Beside him Detective Sergeant Sally Donovan released her seat belt.She stared out of the car window at the high, dark brick wall, topped with camera’s and razor wire on the opposite side of the street and gave a low laugh.  
“Is that Buckingham Palace gardens over that wall?” She sounded a little over awed.  
“That makes the Queen and this guy neighbours….do you reckon she pops round in her dressing gown to borrow a cup of milk when she runs out?” Greg said with a grin and Sally laughed.  
Greg was still chuckling as he climbed out of the police car and rang the original brass doorbell to the right of the glossy black painted front door with its lion head door knocker.  
“Bit of a change from our usual turf.” Greg said drily as he looked up at the security camera.  
“You’re telling me.” Donovan replied.

The door was opened by a tall black man in a plain navy suit.  
“Mr Mycroft Holmes?” Greg assumed but the man simply shook his head.  
“Can I see some ID please?”  
Greg and Sally handed over their ID cards and the man spoke into a mobile phone, clearly verifying who they were before handing back their ID cards with a professional nod. “Follow me please,” he said as he stepped aside to allow them to walk into the house. Greg looked closely at the man as he passed him and was sure he noticed the shape of a holster and gun under the man’s practical, plain suit….a bodyguard maybe?  
The cool, silent, marble entrance hall with its gracious sweeping staircase and polished grandfather clock was a huge cry from the coat, shoe and bike filled hallway of Lestrade’s own small 1970’s terraced house with its aertex ceiling. Greg found himself straightening his tie.  
“Mr Holmes will be with you shortly.”  
The room they found themselves waiting in was elegantly furnished with restrained good taste and several expensive looking antiques that matched anything Greg had seen in the glossily exclusive Sotheby’s Auction Catalogues that he only ever read at his Doctor’s surgery.  
“Wow, how the Elite live huh?” Sally stared around her drinking it all in. “It’s like something out of Country Life magazine. Look at those curtains, they must have cost a fortune. He definitely didn’t buy those in Primark!”  
Greg almost laughed out loud, the whole situation felt more than a little unreal and was about to get even more so.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade?” The enunciation was perfect, the accent extremely bloody posh and, as Greg discovered when he turned around , Mycroft Holmes would make Prince Charles look scruffy. The grey suit with matching waistcoat the man was wearing looked Saville Row for Christ's sake! “Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Mycroft Holmes.”  
Even the eccentric name suited the man down to the ground. Holmes had an aristocratic, pale intelligent face with a slight cleft to his chin and clever blue- grey , watchful eyes. Greg picked up a certain vulnerability hidden behind the man’s direct, chin up stare as though he was used to being almost instantly disliked but refused to let such judgements affect him. Greg thought him the most interesting looking Alpha he had seen in years and was forced to tell himself to calm the Hell down internally and smile as he introduced himself and his Detective Sergeant.

Mycroft extended a well-manicured hand, his hand shake was firmer than Lestrade had expected and his hand colder than Greg’s own. “Please sit down. Would you like some tea.... or coffee.” There was a distinct note of disapproval in the man’s voice that showed he regarded coffee as distinctly un-English.  
Greg refused politely but to his surprise Donovan said yes to the question and so it was that Greg found himself balancing a fine bone china cup, he was sure was an expensive antique, on its rattling gilt edged saucer, feeling as though he was having tea with the Vicar.

“I’m rather afraid you’ve had a wasted journey Detective Inspector.” Mycroft Holmes voice was deceptively mild but the man’s eyes watched Lestrade sharply and Greg knew instantly he was being lied too.  
“You haven’t had an intruder? A Mrs Glover reported a break in just over half an hour ago. I’d like to speak to her if that’s possible?”  
“Of course. Mrs Glover is my temporary housekeeper. She may have been a tad …. overzealous.” Mycroft took a sip of tea, Greg noticed the man’s cup didn’t rattle around in his saucer, his hand was perfectly steady but Greg was no fool and after years interviewing suspects and victims alike he knew when somebody was hiding something. Mycroft Holmes most definitely was.

“Donovan if you speak with the housekeeper, Mrs Glover, I’ll take a look at the site of this alleged break in with Mr Holmes here.”  
From the tightening around Mycroft Holmes mouth Greg could see they understood each other and he was aware of Mycroft’s clever eyes evaluating him subtly as Sally stood up.  
“If you speak to one of the two gentlemen waiting outside the door Detective Sergeant they will show you where the housekeepers parlour is.”  
Once the door had closed behind Donovan Mycroft replaced the tea cup and saucer somewhat abruptly on the silver tray and met Greg’s eyes with a flat determination as he stood up.  
“This way Detective Inspector.” Mycroft opened a small door hidden behind the heavy curtains and led the way up a narrow flight of stairs that Greg realised had to be the original servant’s staircase. They emerged in an even larger, more formal sitting room on the first floor of the house. Light flooded in from the three tall windows overlooking the street below. The carpet was so thick and dense underfoot that Greg noticed it even through his shoes and the only sound was the ticking of a gilded clock upon the sweeping white marble fireplace.

One of the tall windows had obviously been forced open and Greg took a quick look outside at the black wrought iron Juliet balcony. The planting had been trodden on and the print of the toe of a man sized shoe was clearly visible.  
“So someone did break in?”

Mycroft Holmes acquiesced with an infinitesimal gesture and sat down on one of the three couches. The man looked exhausted suddenly as though it was all too much.  
Greg took a look around the elegant room, several ornate silver photo frames and a cigar box stood untouched and what looked like an original Tissot hung upon the wall. It just so happened a replica of it from Harry Corry hung over the stairs in Greg's own house.  
“This break in wasn’t a burglary was it?” Greg knew it. He took a seat facing the other man who met Greg’s questioning eyes without blinking or glancing away. “ What’s your job Mr Holmes?”  
“I occupy a minor position in the British Government and no…it almost certainly was not an attempted burglary.”  
“Then what was this? Let’s start there shall we?” Greg wanted answers and he wanted them now, not a bloody waste of police time and manpower.  
“I believe the intruders were hoping to find somebody else here.” Mycroft’s answer was still too irritatingly obscure for Greg’s liking.  
“And just who might they have been hoping to find?”  
“My younger Omega brother Sherlock…” To Greg’s surprise Mycroft Holmes looked more than a little distressed and as he spoke Greg saw the man’s eyes glance to one of the inlaid side tables and the small collection of framed photographs there.  
Greg rose and checked the photographs out and Mycroft made no move to stop him . Every single photo was of a beautiful Omega child with huge blue eyes, ivory skin and a tumbling chaotic mess of silky dark curls. It was like a shrine.

“How about starting again from the beginning.“ Greg’s voice was kind, if this was a missing child case or a bereavement case then he’d come at it with entirely the wrong approach and he felt ashamed of that.  
Lestrade was confused when Mycroft made a sound indicating his bitter amusement.  
“My brother is 19 now Detective Inspector.” Mycroft gestured to the side table behind Lestrade and the policeman turned to see yet more framed photographs. The boy in these photos was the same child but older, perhaps 14 or 15 and he was even more beautiful. The softness of a child’s face had striking bone structure now, the boy's beauty was androgynous and graceful and his lips and eyes caught and held the eye. Mycroft’s eyes were on Greg’s face as the policeman turned back around and there was a look of resignation on the man’s face. “Sherlock recently fled an extremely abusive bond. He did so in the company of one of his Alpha’s bodyguards…another Alpha.”  
Greg whistled. “I bet that went down like a lead balloon!”  
“Indeed ….” The silence at the end of the single word spoke volumes.  
“And this Alpha…your brother’s Alpha …. he’s behind this break in you think?”  
“Charles Magnussen? Yes, I believe so but it would be most inadvisable for you to attempt to prove my accusations.”  
“THE Charles Magnussen?” Holmes nodded bleakly. Greg knew of course who Magnussen was, the man owned the British press after all. “Bit older than your brother isn’t he?”  
Mycroft had a pinched unhappy look on his face now and his answering nod was reluctant.

“This break in was him looking for his Omega then? Did he have reason to believe you were harbouring your brother?”  
“Harbouring?” Mycroft pronounced the word as though it was made of dry ash in his mouth. “Sherlock is my younger brother Detective Inspector, for years he has suffered the most extreme abuse at that man’s hands. I should have helped him years ago, I tried but I failed, again and again I failed. I regret that more than I could possibly express.” Greg watched as Holmes inhaled and regained his poise and some measure of control.” I would have been happy to harbour my brother, to protect him but I was denied that. Instead my brother is God knows where in the company of another Alpha I believe desires him sexually.” Mycroft faltered to a halt. “I cannot even appoint a legal team of Alpha Elite lawyers willing to bring our case before the Bond Court. The last lawyer I approached described it as career suicide!”  
Mycroft’s tightly controlled veneer was cracking and Greg found himself looking into the man’s unmasked face, the pain and guilt he could see there were raw and fresh wounds. Greg pitied the man.

“How’d you feel about the campaign for Omega rights Mr Holmes? I may know some people you should meet?”  
Mycroft Holmes astute bluish grey eyes locked with Greg’s trustworthy deep brown eyes and both men held the shared moment a little too long.  
“Please …. call me Mycroft and I think ….I rather think ….I’d be most interested in making their acquaintance Detective Inspector Lestrade.”  
“Call me Greg ….” Lestrade said with a smile.


	10. Good Morning Mister Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saul gets another scoop of a story from John Watson and learns a little more about the man behind the urban legend.

It was five in the morning and Saul Jefferson, Sky News top journalist, had been waiting for an hour sat in the dark morning light, on a bench in London’s Regent Park overlooking the timber wolf enclosure. On the other side of the fencing silver grey, wraithlike shadows flitted rapidly past in loping silent runs, amid the sparse trees of their pen.  
“Sorry this meets so early Saul.” John Watson dropped onto the far end of the bench alongside the journalist. He wore a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and a dark waxed jacket. “Good to see you again.”  
Saul noticed instantly the white edges and bulky shape of a heavily bandaged shoulder under John’s jacket. “You’re injured?”  
“Just a gunshot wound. An Alpha with an illegal firearm and a short fuse.. Its fine.”  
Watson rubbed at the muscle of his thigh as he spoke and Saul noticed a wooden walking stick propped against the bench next to John …. he was quick to put two and two together.  
“You’ve injured your leg as well?”  
John grinned and Saul saw the flash of white, even teeth in the moonlight. “Nope, that’s nothing to worry about.”

John’s answer was as enigmatic as the man himself. Reaching into his jacket John pulled out a large manila envelope and slid it down the bench towards Saul.  
“This is everything you’ll need to expose a ring of pedophile Elite Alpha in the House of Lords. Some big names. Some very sick bastards.” John’s voice held that sharp edge that Saul knew indicated anger. “Five Omega children are being held in a house in Kensal Green. I got in there the once…before this.” John nodded towards his shoulder. “There were five Omega aged between ten and fourteen, all children of illegal immigrants who couldn’t go to the police to report their child missing. They were all scared witless of any and all Alpha's and none of them understood any English. It was impossible to get all five out safely with this bloody hole in my shoulder. “John’s frustration was clear.

“God!” Saul was appalled.  
“You’ll be following the Police in on this one Saul. It’s dangerous. A friend of mine DI Greg Lestrade at Scotland Yard is going to be on the bust. He’s a good bloke.”  
John used his cane as he stood and Saul found himself automatically getting to his feet out of sheer respect for the man.  
“John do you mind if I ask you a question?.... Why’d you do it? Why put yourself at risk like this? You can’t have known many, if any, Elite Omega’s or Elite Alpha’s?  
John’s smile was disarmingly wide. “Can’t I have done?..... This stays off the record?”  
“Of course, I’m just puzzled by it, you’re a hard man to work out.”  
“I’m a surprisingly easy one.” John grinned. “I fell in love with an Elite Omega years ago , he was bonded against his will to an Alpha. What I saw of how that man treated Sher….” John corrected himself. “What I saw of how he treated his Omega…. like property, like a slave …changed everything for me. It’s a sick fucking system Saul, corrupt from the head down, rotten as a stinking fish. Self-perpetuating and built on human misery. I could do nothing to save the Omega I knew, I was a teenager and he'd just turned fifteen…. but I can help pull that whole way of life down. I can do that.”

Now they were standing and face to face Saul could see how stiffly John held his shoulder and just how heavily he was leaning on the cane he’d bought with him.There were beads of pained sweat on John's forehead. It bought the very real risks John ran to do what he did into sharp focus and Saul was surprised to find how much he meant his words when he spoke. “ Take care John.”  
John’s answering smile was as approachable and disarming as ever. Saul knew he was facing an ex-soldier, a man who was more than capable of violence when the situation demanded it and Saul didn’t doubt for a second that John would and probably had, killed for his cause ; yet the man could vanish into a crowd whenever he needed to and appear to be totally unremarkable when really he was exceptional.... It was a contradiction that fascinated Saul.

John was far from unattractive Saul finally admitted to himself, with a compact but muscular body and an easy athleticism when he was uninjured, and added to that the Alpha had a pair of the deepest, warmest hazel eyes Saul had ever seen and a wide, sexy smile.

John raised an eyebrow questioningly as he saw Saul checking him out. It was an unconsciously flirtatious gesture and suggested an ease and confidence around all three secondary genders that Saul found very attractive. Saul knew John’s nickname was three continents Watson because of the Alpha's legendary appeal to other Alpha, Omega and Beta's alike and now, face to face and little more than a step away from the man he could feel the attraction and it was hotter than fire.  
Sex between two Alpha was frowned upon among the Elite, but like John himself Saul wasn’t an Elite Alpha. He knew Alpha on Alpha sex between two men could never be penetrative but it could be enjoyable in other ways and right now he was far from adverse to trying some of those alternative ways to take and give pleasure with John if the man was at all interested. Hell he knew he was practically undressing John with his eyes.

John tilted his head back and met Saul’s hungry stare …he clearly knew exactly what Saul wanted from him but to Saul’s surprise, even though he knew he had seen a mutual hunger in John’s brown eyes, the man made no move to close the gap between them.  
“I’ve a flat nearby, on Welbeck Street, if you feel like a drink?”  
“I don’t think that’d be wise for either of us. You’re a decent bloke and I’m flattered but I’m taken.”  
“God I’m sorry John I didn’t see a ring. I just assumed….”  
“I don’t have a ring to wear. Technically I’m single but I’m bonded nonetheless. Here where it counts.” John touched his left hand to his heart. “He was never mine to have, bonded since before we met, but I’ll never be anyone else’s. I’ve not enough left to offer anyone else without short changing them."  
John’s voice held both resignation and a wry amusement as though he found his own constancy funny yet accepted he couldn’t change it. Saul watched as John straightened his shoulders and shrugged off the shared moment.

“Use the file Saul. It’s a headline story, may even force some changes through. Who knows. I’ll be in touch when I’ve more for you.”  
John turned to go and a silver car parked way down the road began to move slowly towards him. Saul saw he was limping badly.  
“John….” Watson stood still but he didn’t turn around and Saul spoke to the man’s back, unable to see or read his face.” If you ever need a place to stay, money …. anything. As a friend.”  
The silver car drew up alongside John and Saul saw two men inside, one of whom opened the door for John.  
John met Saul’s eyes and nodded. “Watch out tomorrow at the bust Saul. “ John tossed his cane onto the back seat , got into the car and was gone.


	11. Sometimes I Don't Talk For Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is in a bad place mentally and Alan is desperate to find the right way to help him

Sherlock had been laid on the couch for two days now, not speaking, or answering when he was spoken to, he’d eaten nothing and Alan hadn’t been able to get him to take even as much as a sip of water. It felt like a bloody long time to be looking at someone’s back while they were in some type of silent coma.  
Back in Apple Dore Alan would never have left the lad in this state as long as he had here, in the privacy of his own home. He’d always tried to joke or annoy Sherlock into talking back and if that failed Alan hadn’t been above ordering Sherlock to get up or even pulling him up by an arm, he’d even shaken him a few times to snap him out of it. Alan wasn’t proud of it and that method of dealing with the Omega by bullying him or forcing him physically to do as he was told wasn’t the way Alan wanted to deal with the boy now …. if he was honest Alan knew he was ashamed of the times he had forced Sherlock along by an arm when the lad refused to walk or prevented him from leaving a room by blocking him bodily, even though Sherlock never seemed to blame him afterwards Alan hadn’t felt right about it for a very long time now.

Much as he hated to admit it he was at a loss here; he didn’t know how best to handle Sherlock when he was like this…. now force or the threat of Magnussen’s temper wasn’t an option. Alan wanted the Omega back and talking but he wanted to do it in his own way, without brutalising him any further than the boy had already been. Alan knew shaking the boy out of it physically would work but he had no employer sanctioning that casual violence now, it wasn’t an expected part of his job anymore to subdue Sherlock every time the teenager refused to do as he was asked. They were in Alan’s own home and whatever he did would be his own choice. There had to be a better way around this.  
These black moods the boy suffered from Alan guessed had their roots in the abuse Sherlock had lived through, although the boy never spoke about it Alan knew what he’d been through and he refused to leave Sherlock alone, even if that meant literally watching his back for 48 fucking hours of still silence. Alan didn’t rule out another suicide attempt, he bloody feared one.

“C’mon lad, this isn’t doing you any good. You need to get your head out of this. You hear me? Sherlock!” Sherlock didn’t show any signs he heard anything as Alan sat himself on the floor next to the couch, level with the lad’s hips and took a sip of his tea. “Bloody Hell how’d you make sitting on the floor look so comfy.” Alan grumbled.” My arse is going numb!” He stole a glance at the boy’s blank, closed down face, he had his eyes shut but now they were this close Alan could tell Sherlock wasn’t sleeping. Whatever this was it wasn’t healthy and Alan was damned if he was going to watch as Sherlock became dehydrated.

To Hell with this Riddick decided, if he was in for a penny he may as well be in for the whole bloody pound. He’d been bonded before; he knew some things about Omega he could use. Moving slowly Alan stretched his arm carefully along the couch seat and swallowed hard before moving his arm to lay along Sherlock’s side and letting his hand fall onto the nape of Sherlock’s neck.  
He heard Sherlock give a shocked sharp inhalation as the Omega flinched from the touch and Alan raised his palm and showed there was no threat before replacing it firmly in the same place. Sherlock flinched again, Alan kept his hand still, just letting it cup the Omega’s bond bite loosely, waiting for the boy’s rapid startled breathing to start to settle.” It’s okay lad. Hush down!”  
Sherlock still jumped when Alan let his fingers move, tracing gently around the raised raw edges that still hadn’t healed and rubbing his thumb against the older, scarred white indentations in the Omega’s soft skin.

It was like trying to pet a cat that once had been someone’s pet but had been left wild and without human contact for so long it had almost forgotten what easy affection was like. Any second now Alan thought, as his fingers rubbed a slow circle, the boy would snap and hiss at him or explode away from him defensively but he didn’t and Alan leaned the weight of his forearm down on Sherlock’s ribs to ground him as he massaged thumb and forefingers over the bones of the boy’s delicate spine right where Magnussen had bitten him all those years ago, with no more reaction from the Omega than a constant tremor that Alan could feel through his fingertips. If his touch was welcome or not Alan wasn’t sure but at least Sherlock was conscious of it and wasn’t lost inside his own head anymore.

Alan turned his body side on, exerting enough pressure to massage the bone and muscle beneath the boy’s pale skin. He knew if Sherlock allowed this, that putting firm repetitive pressure on a bonded bite would almost force the boy to relax, like scruffing a cat …. but as to whether the boy would allow himself to be touched to that extent Riddick didn’t know. Could go either way truthfully. Riddick knew he was pushing boundaries here that he’d only ever approached once before when he’d scented Sherlock and he tried to keep his touch from becoming sensual, concentrating closely on every single white scar in the boy’s warm soft skin and letting his calloused thumb rub a slow streak of heat and friction over each one as bit by bit Sherlock’s breathing slowed and slurred.  
Alan knew he had him when Sherlock slumped under his touch as Alan’s broad fingers slid up into the lad’s hairline and down again over and over. Sherlock’s slide into sleep was as slow and faltering as it was inevitable after two days awake, immobile and miserable. The boy was on the verge of succumbing to it a handful of times only to start awake just as he was about to drift under. Alan kept his arm along the boy’s body anchoring him and slowed his fingers right down till they barely moved and he knew the moment Sherlock was asleep when the shivering tremor under Alan’s hand stopped finally. Alan leant his head back against Sherlock’s hip and drank his tea even though it’d gone cold.

The boy didn’t sleep for long, but Alan hadn’t expected him too, this close to his heat , and two hours later Alan watched as Sherlock woke up. Alan bought him over a glass of water and reached over to hand it to Sherlock who lent up on one elbow and took the first drink he’d had in days. The glass had only been half full and as soon as Sherlock had emptied it he took it from the boy’s hands, as Alan did so the weight of his gun in its leather holster pressed against his chest and an idea hit him from out of nowhere.  
“I was thinking. I could teach you to handle a gun ….to shoot. “Alan left it at that as he placed the empty glass by the sink and turned to face Sherlock.  
“I’m Omega, you know that’s not allowed under Bond Law.” Sherlock hadn’t moved and his voice was sad and muted.  
“Yeah? Aye, well bugger Bond Law ….do you want to learn or not?”

Sherlock made a sudden shift and rolled over just as Alan sat down on top of the couch arm near the boy’s feet. Sherlock’s stare was almost accusational and Riddick stared right back at the Omega without lowering his eyes. If Sherlock had a problem with what had happened between them earlier he’d have to come right out and say so because Alan sure as Hell wasn’t going to bring the matter up. When Sherlock nodded his head Alan was relieved.  
“Good. You’ve to shower, eat something, have another drink first. I’m not having you pass out on me. “ Alan stated his terms clearly as Sherlock sat up and swung his bare feet to the floor. “We’ll start with you learning to take a gun apart, clean it, put it all back together. A gun is no good unless its kept clean.”  
“What do I have to eat?”  
Alan laughed “It’s not a punishment lad. I’m making eggs. Go wash up, I’ll call you when I’m about to plate up.“ And that was that it seemed, as Sherlock vanished into the bathroom. Alan felt oddly proud of himself as he got a fry pan out and melted some butter before cracking six eggs into a bowl and whisking them up with a fork. He tipped the mix into the fry pan and stirred it around. When it looked almost ready Alan gave Sherlock a shout to let the lad know.

He didn’t hear Sherlock walk up behind him and the sudden slide of Sherlock’s thin arms around Alan’s waist, with the boy’s face pressed for a second against Alan’s broad back, was over almost as soon as Sherlock’s arms met round him. Blink and you’d have missed the whole thing …. but Alan knew what he’d just been given …. a hug …. and the grin on his face told its own story as he dished up the eggs and took his seat. Sherlock rolled his eyes dramatically.  
“What?” Alan teased gently enjoying the boy’s embarrassed silence almost as much as the blush Sherlock couldn’t hide and he grinned right at the boy. “Shut up and eat your eggs soft lad!” And Sherlock did just that .


	12. Hold The Line Please.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft gets a call from an unrecognised number....the conversation does not go well.

Mycroft cut a precise slither of Cornish butter with the short handled butter knife and placed the slice exactly in the middle of his slice of multigrain toast. He was applying an even spread of old English marmalade when his phone rang. A glance revealed a number Mycroft didn’t recognise and Mycroft dropped the toast back onto his plate, showering crumbs over the table, in his haste to answer, dreading any delay that could result in either Sherlock or Alan Riddick abandoning the call.  
There was a sharp discordant burst of static down the line and then Sherlock’s voice saying “Mycroft?” before more static drowned out the sound of his brother’s voice. Mycroft felt overwhelmed by a futile sense of despair, fearing Sherlock was gone and the connection severed before they had even had a chance to communicate. Then abruptly Sherlock’s voice was repeating itself, saying over and over “Can you hear me now?” Mycroft’s fingers tightened around the handset as though he could hold onto his brother physically that way, Sherlock sounded flustered as he asked again and Mycroft took control.  
“Yes. I can hear you. Stand still Sherlock, wherever you are now just stand still! Don’t move.” The line gave one final crackle of static and Mycroft winced and held the phone away from his ear. When he moved the phone back to his ear Sherlock was already talking and was mid-sentence.  
“…. said I can call you. I can talk till the credit is all used up.”  
Mycroft entered a code and texted it to his latest assistant Anthea to alert her that the call should be recorded and traced as Sherlock was speaking.

“Are you well Sherlock? Are you safe?”  
“I’m okay. I’m good. I just don’t feel so good today.”  
“What’s wrong? Are you unwell? “Mycroft could hear a slight strain hidden under his brother’s voice.  
“I’m cramping a lot today that’s all. That’s why I sound sick.”  
“Cramps?” Ovulatory pain of course with Sherlock’s heat mere days away! “Have you seen a Doctor?”  
“No but Alan bought something from the supermarket, Omega -Ease pills. You dissolve them in water, it says they will help. “  
Mycroft became aware he was open mouthed in a rather slack jawed, uncouth manner and closed his jaw decisively. Pain medication from a supermarket! Mycroft knew Sherlock had always had a childlike fascination for dissolvable medication, it was doubtless the effervescent fizzing. Mycroft swallowed back every negative opinion he was about to express about the possible efficacy of cheap heat medication ….it simply wouldn’t do to be a little too forceful and scare Sherlock again.  
“I have a hot water bottle , it helps.” Sherlock added.  
(text from Anthea …. pay as you go mobile phone bought last month in Helsinki. Not registered. Finnish number. Trying to trace... current location Sweden)  
“A hot water bottle?” Mycroft was aware he was simply repeating a stated fact but he was quite unable to help himself, needing Sherlock to stay on the line to give them any chance of locating him.  
Sherlock was talking again. “Sometimes if it’s really bad Alan wraps the hot water bottle in a towel and I lay on top of it.”

“Is Alan there with you? “Mycroft’s voice sounded saccharine sweet to his own ears as he tried overly hard to disguise his resentments with the man and he detected a trace of unease as Sherlock replied.  
“Yes, he’s buying a waterproof sheet for the bed. Do you want to talk to him? He’s just paying now, I can bang on the window and he’ll come right out.”  
Waterproof sheets for the bed! Mycroft refused to allow a trace of his agitation to colour his voice. “No ….no Sherlock, not yet. Are you eating and keeping warm? Sleeping?”  
“I can’t sleep. Very warm, Alan chopped logs. I am eating. I cook now, I can make eggs…. and porridge, I can make that too. It burns a lot more than it should though.“  
“Have you turned the heat low? Perhaps the pan, the base should have a copper core to distribute heat evenly….” Mycroft blinked, unsure why in God’s name he was discussing saucepans when Sherlock’s heat was mere days away.  
“I think it’s a very old pan, Alan said it’s a mess tin from when he was in the army.”  
God give me strength! Mycroft clung to what remained of his dwindling control over the direction this conversation was taking.

Both brothers spoke at once, voices clashing.  
“Sherlock….”  
” I can cook for you when I come home….”  
Sherlock sounded so young and fragile and Mycroft ached to hug him, to see for himself if his brother was truly well.  
“Yes you can, certainly you can, although perhaps in a proper pan.”  
Sherlock laughed.  
“Sherlock.... where will you be staying for your heat? Has Alan made arrangements? “  
“That’s why we came here today, to get the things.” Any trace of laughter was gone from Sherlock’s voice now at the mere mention of his heat and Mycroft regretted that as he desperately connected the meagre dots of random information he knew so far. Perhaps he had underestimated Alan Riddick and the man had bought Sherlock to a hotel of some sort with a basic heat suite.  
The line crackled and Mycroft missed the first few words of Sherlock’s reply. “…. welded onto the door and shutters.”  
“Welded….?” Metal? What on earth?  
Sherlock was still explaining but the static was distorting most of his words.  
“Sherlock! Stand still! Stop moving!” Mycroft ordered sharply and he knew the instant the peremptory words left his lips that he had made a mistake.  
“I had to move out the way. There was a delivery.” Sherlock’s voice had dropped submissively, the happy confiding confidence of earlier gone, he sounded almost timid and Mycroft tried to reassure him.  
“That was a good idea, moving aside Sherlock. I am sorry I was impatient…. Sherlock where exactly will you be spending your heat? Has Alan arranged a heat suite?” Mycroft dreaded the answer he suspected would come.  
“At home, Alan’s making it safe.” Sherlock sounded wary now as though he knew the answer wasn’t what Mycroft wanted him to say. “It’s safer …. nobody will find us there. In a hotel they could.”

Mycroft could only guess that Sherlock’s demeanour and expression had changed along with his voice from excited to tense, he deduced he probably had mere moments before Alan Riddick intervened. How to best phrase what he needed to say? How? There simply wasn’t the time for finesse!  
“Sherlock have you ever spent a heat alone before? Charles has always stayed with you?” Sherlock was silent now. “It’s a very different experience to be alone without an Alpha, without his knot ….” The silence radiating down the phone line from Sherlock was tense and miserable . Mycroft struggled to inform Sherlock but he already guessed his brother hated the topic.  
“Alan knows what to do.” Sherlock sounded sullen and mutinous, he clearly didn’t want to talk about this subject at all.  
“Sherlock ….it can’t possibly be alright. Alan is an unbonded Alpha, without a heat suite with a filtration system to filter your scent he will become increasingly, aggressively sexually aroused...erect ….”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Riddick’s voice was furious. “Fuck you! Every bloody time I let you alone with him the same shit! I’m not going to batter down a door and rape your brother!”  
“Yes you are! If you even let him close the door in the first instance!” Mycroft was incandescent with anger. “If you harm so much as a hair on my brother’s head….”  
“For fucks sake we both know it’s not his bloody _head _you’re worried about! Heaven forbid an Elite Omega should spend a heat with a low class Alpha! Can’t have a commoner dirtying up the pure Holmes bloodline!”  
“Why would that particular thought even occur to you …. unless you’ve considered mating him!” Mycroft seethed.__

____

There was a stunned silence, nobody spoke, then Alan grudgingly broke it.  
“I haven’t bloody …. planned on that! You always make the lad cry; do you know that? He thinks the world of you but God knows why. There isn’t a gentle bone in your whole damn clever body. He’s been raped …. what do you think it does to him telling him I’ll do it to him again?”  
“it’s highly possible that you will do just that if you lose control!” Mycroft couldn’t hold back the accusation. “Have you even smelt Sherlock in heat? Have you ever smelt any Elite Omega in full heat? To be indelicate his slick will be the single most provocatively sexual invitation to take and mate that you will ever have experienced. The rut it will trigger will be stronger and less controllable than anything you are expecting. You will become painfully erect for days and all the while you will be agonisingly aware that an Omega in perfect heat is just the other side of a flimsy door! When the pressure surrounding your knot becomes too painful and you masturbate to relieve that relentless pressure Sherlock will smell and react to the Alpha pheromones in your semen…. his body will crave a knot, a mating, but since you are not his bonded Alpha he will become confused hormonally”  
Alan was silent and Mycroft hastened to impart the facts. “A heat spent in such close contact without consummation will be unbearable for you both but the real problem, should you manage not to force yourself upon him, will come at a future heat , weeks after. The bite site on his neck will swell and become progressively more painful until it begins to affect the bones of his spine. It’s a condition unique to Elite Omega due to the site of the bond bite. He will be in severe pain!”

Mycroft paused for breath. “Riddick...? “Nothing, not even a word in reply…. “Riddick…? Alan?” Total silence. Mycroft hadn’t heard a sound down the line for minutes now but still he couldn’t allow himself to give up and repeatedly asked the question even though he already knew there was nobody on the other end of the line.

Later Mycroft was informed that Alan had simply dropped the mobile phone into the nearest litter bin without even bothering to disconnect the call. Mycroft felt the pain of the Alpha guard’s decision like a personal rejection. He reluctantly accepted his conversation with Sherlock hadn’t gone smoothly but how could it when he was reduced to no more than a voice that Sherlock remembered from the past , who persistently tried to do his brotherly duty and inform the teenage Omega about the implications of a heat he clearly didn’t want to consider. Forcing Sherlock to confront issues he obviously found humiliatingly painful had been disastrous to date.

Mycroft felt unbalanced as he struggled to equate the prodigiously intelligent little brother he had known with this new fragile, emotionally brittle boy. The years of severed contact that Magnussen had strictly enforced between the two Holmes brothers had had their desired effect. Mycroft realised that even a simple conversation with his younger brother was fraught with so many variables that Mycroft couldn’t deduce without seeing Sherlock’s response to what was being said and being there to notice when the Omega wasn’t coping well with the subject matter or the questions.  
There was a heart-breaking disconnect between the potential of the much loved younger brother Mycroft had adored and the troubled reality of Sherlock now…. he seemed so much younger emotionally than Mycroft had expected him to be at nineteen as though he’d been unable to grow and mature through his teenage years but had remained immature in ways. With painful raw clarity Mycroft realised that was of course exactly what had happened here. The unpredictable violence and abuse that had saturated Sherlock’s teenage years with Magnussen had reduced Sherlock to maintaining behaviours…. survival mode; not the emotional changes that would lead to independence and maturity. The certainty that his brother had been so damaged made Mycroft feel physically unwell, it was a devastating blow to realise Sherlock was altered so profoundly.

Mycroft felt the anxious frustration that preceded many of his migraines and he sighed as he abandoned his uneaten breakfast and climbed the stairs to his bedroom where he swallowed two migraine tablets before calling for the chauffeur driven car that would drive him to his office.  
During the short drive across the city, past Buckingham Palace and along Pall Mall, Mycroft fought against the urge to close his eyes against the harsh morning light and rest his head. Instead he found himself rubbing inelegantly at the base of his skull with two fingers, trying to relieve some of the muscle tension he could feel was building there. All of a sudden Mycroft experienced a stunningly clear visual memory of Sherlock sat next to him ; in the black Daimler that followed Daddy’s coffin on route to the family crypt. The Omega had stared wordlessly out of the window while three long, pale fingers pushed under his stiff shirt collar and rubbed at the nape of his neck. Mycroft recalled distinctly the look on Mummy’s face as his eyes had been drawn to the repetitive movement and he knew now that Mummy’s look of surprised awareness meant he had known Sherlock was experiencing the hormonal changes that would mark his emergence as an Omega on the cusp of his first ever heat. At the time Mycroft had mistakenly thought Mummy objected to Sherlock’s inability to sit still and conduct himself impeccably so Mycroft had caught Sherlock’s hand and firmly replaced it on the boy’s lap with a look of disapproval.

Now with the benefit of hindsight Mycroft knew that the scent glands in Sherlock’s neck must have aching and that the fourteen-year-old Omega was already grieving and highly stressed.... hiding the fact that Charles Magnussen had been pestering him with unwanted expensive gifts for months. Indeed, Magnussen must have scented Sherlock’s rising hormonal changes when he had met him backstage at that school ballet. Another few weeks after Daddy’s funeral and Magnussen would have made his move and approached Mummy to ask for Sherlock.  
Sherlock couldn’t be blamed for his unconscious physical responses to his oncoming heat and Mycroft very much regretted his censorious actions of years ago. Mummy must have recognised the signs of change as only an Omega parent would, yet Mycroft couldn’t recall a single conversation about the subject …. Mummy had simply withdrawn to his rooms and Sherlock had been despatched back to boarding school within days. There had been no reassurance or comfort for Sherlock there.

So many of the people responsible for protecting Sherlock had failed him time and time again, when they could have made the small decisions that would have made his life safer. Mycroft refused to add to his tally of failures, it remained to be seen whether Alan Riddick would suffer through an unconsummated painful rut to protect Sherlock or whether he would join the ranks of those who had added to the pain that had already filled so much of Sherlock’s life.  
Only days were left before whatever happened during Sherlock’s heat would become the Omega’s new reality.


	13. Porn shops and Dark Alleys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alan makes a mistake . It doesn't just affect Sherlock....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update was scheduled to be one about John , Greg and a certain suit wearing older Holmes brother but it is refusing to edit itself as I would like it and I won't post unless the dialogue is exactly right... so I'm going with this update first and the John one will follow it. It wont affect the plot at all.  
> When I started writing this story I said that every Alpha in Sherlock's life would prove to be flawed ....this update proves that I hope.

Sherlock was cold and he pulled up the hood of his navy sweatshirt as he got out of the car before slamming the door moodily. He had a raw dragging ache down the left side of his body all day and he wanted to stay in the warm and curl up. Alan had only stopped the Land Rover twice on the journey back from Sweden to Finland so why he’d decided to pull over here now Sherlock didn’t know. He did know Alan still seemed frustrated, even angry. Sherlock thought maybe he was tired, it was a long drive, they’d slept in the car overnight and it had been cold .  
Alan shut the driver’s door and came around the car to Sherlock, zipping his black fleece jacket up as he did. Sherlock knew him well enough to tell he was still mulling over whatever Mycroft and he had argued about.  
“I thought we got everything on the list?” Sherlock asked.  
“We didn’t get everything.” Alan answered flatly.  
Sherlock frowned and Alan could see the boy running through the list he’d helped write in his mind, trying to work out what they hadn’t already got as he followed Alan down a narrow side street and away from the busy main shopping street.  
The wind seemed colder here, away from the faded winter sun and colourful, modern shop fronts that stretched along the main road. The back street was a strange mix of grimy looking front doors opening straight onto the dirty red brick pavement, cheap clothing stores and a derelict nightclub, its faded promotional fly posters still glued to its walls. Two old ladies were sat on a concrete bench chatting, one pulled her scarf up about her face as Alan and Sherlock walked by. Alan could see the store he was looking for at the end of the short back street and he knew the instant the lad spotted the shop sign as he stopped walking and started swearing savagely.

“What the fuck Alan? No! Fuck… no!”  
Alan tried to keep his voice level. “You need …something. You know you do.”  
“I’m not!.... No!” Sherlock looked panicked and hadn’t taken another step.  
“They sell these things every day Sherlock. Nobody in there cares what we buy. We’ll get it, get back in the car and go home.” Alan was beyond exhausted. His neck ached and he needed a piss.  
Sherlock shook his head stubbornly. “I’m not…. I don’t …. I’m not going in there!”  
Riddick could hear the obstinacy of fear in the boy’s voice. “It’s an Alpha/Omega sex shop lad …. not a lion’s den.”

Behind Sherlock a heavy set bearded blond Alpha opened the door as he left the shop. Alan stared aggressively at him as the man checked out Sherlock’s arse and Sherlock span his head around nervously to see what Alan was glaring at. When he saw the other Alpha behind him the boy took two nervous steps closer to Alan. Seizing his chance Alan stepped forward into Sherlock’s personal space using Sherlock’s instinctive Omega submissiveness against him .  
“You need…. something to use.” Alan avoided saying the words ‘knotting dildo’, trying to talk around it and persuade Sherlock inside the doors. The lad’s eyes were huge and nervous and he hadn’t even looked towards the shop once since realising what kind of shop it was.  
Alan took a slow measured breath out. “I told you I’d help get you through your heat …. That’s all I’m trying to do. This is just a part of it.”

Alan wasn’t fooling himself as he buzzed them both into the shop, he knew Sherlock didn’t want to be there and he kept a steady hand on the boy’s upper arm. Inside the shop was surprisingly busy. A couple of older Alpha guys were looking through the porno DVD’s, another was looking at body harnesses for his Omega who was on all fours in the middle of the shop floor and a ginger haired Beta was stocking up on lube.  
Alan steered Sherlock towards a gaudy display of knotting dildos on a glass table. Sherlock’s eyes hadn’t come up off the carpet once and Alan could feel how tense and miserable the boy was. Things didn’t improve once Sherlock was stood in front of the display. An example of each knotting dildo was laid out to be handled next to a handwritten sign saying …. ASK AT DESK TO BUY. Every single one was long and wickedly thick with an eye popping array of swollen silicone knots of all shapes and sizes, some were exaggeratedly curved to hit the prostrate hard and many were thickly ridged for additional friction while a select few had a meaty second bulge just under the glans to approximate an Elite Alpha’s double knot.  
Alan was lost for words …. there was no way he was asking the lad if he wanted a Double Knotter or a curved Prostrate Puncher! Sherlock was still staring at the cheap black carpet, radiating unhappy anxiety. “Ok …. you know your body, whichever one you want …. let’s just get it and go.” Alan made his voice as reassuring and calm as he could.  
Sherlock already looked terrified and Alan could see he was breathing erratically even before he looked at any of them…. the second he did Alan knew this had been a monumental mistake.  
“I don’t know …. you choose.” Sherlock hissed, mortified and Alan felt eyes swivel to look as soon as Sherlock’s posh elite accent was heard.

Sherlock was back staring fixedly at his feet as Alan grabbed the thinnest, double knot dildo he could see. It was bright purple …. what it lacked in width it more than made up for in length and it felt solidly heavy in Alan’s hand as he took it to the till to pay. Sherlock followed awkwardly behind him, hesitating only a step away as they reached the till.  
The older Alpha guy behind the counter had multiple piercings and metal studs under the skin of his scalp to which he had fastened safety pins and small chains. He smiled as Alan put the dildo on the counter.  
Alan felt perverted, the knotting dildo looked even more obscenely huge now he saw it away from the others.  
“I’ve this one at home. My Omega can’t get enough of it up inside him, hungry arsed little whore. Is it for heat use only or will you need lube? We have all flavours. Slick is our best seller.”  
“Heat use only. “Alan said gruffly as he laid the money on the counter top. The shop owner took a look behind Alan at Sherlock and gave a knowing leer.  
“Slides in very nicely in a heat, that wide ribbing fills up with slick so it’s not running down your wrist. Give it a good hard twist on the pull back out and it really gets them squirting.”

Sherlock made a sickened sound and was out the door at a run, punching at the green exit button in a frenzy and leaving the door to slam loudly shut behind him. Alan left his change, grabbing the dildo off the counter before it was even bagged and sprinted out the shop after him. The boy was the other side of the narrow street, outside the derelict club and as Alan closed in on him Sherlock span around to face the wall, doubled over and retched emptily again and again.  
Alan didn’t hesitate, reaching out a warm solid palm and rubbing the boy’s back comfortingly. “It’s alright. Get it all up, you’ll feel better.”  
Sherlock rounded on him angrily. The Omega was shockingly pale and green tinged with nausea, his eyes a dark, deeply agitated furious blue.  
Alan stared at him wordlessly.... It was clear he wasn’t alright.  
“ I told you! I don’t want that …. THING!” Sherlock yelled and suddenly he’d grabbed at the dildo, snatching it violently from Alan’s hand and hurled it away down the street.  
The dildo in its clear Perspex and gold box hit the ground hard and the box broke open spilling its contents out. Alan watched stunned as the bright purple Omega dildo hit the base of the bench where the two old ladies were sat with a loud thwack. Both pensioners looked down at it then both ladies looked up and stared judgementally at Alan.

Alan grabbed Sherlock hard by the arm and yanked him away from the wall, pushing him forcibly ahead of him around the corner and down the narrow, litter filled alley that ran down the side of the building as Sherlock struggled to pull away. Ahead at the end of the claustrophobic alley, past the over flowing bins, Alan could see a bright, narrow view of the main road with more people passing by …. he stopped halfway down and pushed Sherlock back against the wall, blocking him there with both muscular forearms on the bricks either side of the boy.  
“Stop it! Stop drawing attention to us! Do you fucking want to get caught?” Alan was struggling to remain calm, struggling to control his temper and Sherlock both.

“Get off me! Let go! I told you ….NO!” Sherlock shouted and tried to duck down under Alan’s arms and away from him. “I told you no! Don’t touch me! I said no!”  
“What the Hell?” Alan caught Sherlock by both thin shoulders and pressed him back into the dark, damp brick wall. “Stop it!”  
Sherlock was crying, angry hot, stressed tears streaming over his slanted cheekbones down to his ripe pink, soft mouth and Alan swallowed hard to control himself. “Sherlock….no! I’m not like that. Stop it! “  
“I don’t want that …thing! I don’t want a heat! I hate it! I don’t want one!” Sherlock was beside himself, hysterical, his forehead punching into Riddick’s chest just under his heart so hard Alan couldn’t breathe. Sherlock twisted and fought, slamming his head against Alan over and over.  
“Stop! Stop!.... Sherlock… please! C’mon … please lad. Stop it!”

At the top of the alley that led back into the street with the sex shop Alan saw the Beta from the shop pause and stare down the alleyway at them both before beginning to walk down towards them.  
“Shit! Sherlock stop. Someone’s coming!”  
Alan leant his body hard into Sherlock, stopping the boy from struggling by pinning him, giving him no space in which to move as he flattened him bodily to the wall. He’d never been so close to Sherlock before, hips forced together, bodies so tightly pressed that as Sherlock’s ribs expanded with each hard, scared breath his body pushed against Alan’s chest. He could feel the boy’s slim, limp cock against his hard thigh muscle.  
The Beta was close, edging down the alley towards them both as Alan desperately pressed his lips into Sherlock’s hair, muttering “Hush, please lad. You have to stop. Please love.” Alan’s words were hot and damp against Sherlock’s skin, spoken hotly into the gaps between kisses as Alan pressed them along the boy’s forehead as though they were lovers.

The Beta had reached them now stopping just out of reach. “Is the Omega alright? “  
Alan felt Sherlock freeze as he heard a stranger’s voice so close to him. Riddick turned his face from Sherlock’s and growled warningly.  
“I don’t want any trouble. If the boy says he is alright, I’ll go.” But the Beta had his mobile phone out and in his hand and Alan’s growl became a harsh snarl, primal and aggressive. “That’s it, I’m calling the Police!”  
Both Sherlock’s hands pushed frantically at Alan and Riddick looked down for just a second to see the boy crushed hard to the wall. Pinned there.  
“I’m fine. “Sherlock’s voice was breathless. “He’s my Alpha.”  
“You heard him! He’s mine! Now fuck off before I rip you a new one!” Alan’s voice was possessive and threatening and the Beta backed away but he didn’t leave.  
“C’mon . Move. Now!” Alan tugged Sherlock away from the wall, pulling him down the stinking alley with its stench of piss and stale beer and catching the Omega tightly by his upper arm as they emerged back onto the main street. Riddick hurried him towards the Land Rover and practically pushed him into the passenger seat.

As Riddick drove away at speed the Beta emerged from the alley and tried to get a photo of Alan’s licence plates using his mobile phone and Alan swore loudly. He thought they were far enough away but he wasn’t sure.  
Sherlock rubbed at his upper arm and hunched against the car door with his face turned away. The silence in the car stretched on agonisingly. Sherlock kept his face turned away, blocking Riddick from sight with one arm and the boys fractured, broken breathing told Alan he was crying.  
Alan was cursing himself inwardly, blaming himself for pushing the Omega so soon after Magnussen; knowing he hadn’t listened to Sherlock’s refusal until the Omega had literally screamed no in his face. Riddick’s hands were fisted hard around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. Fuck!

They were two hours outside the town driving along an empty stretch of road that only loggers and hunters used, when Alan pulled up onto the wide verge and stopped the car, cutting the engine and undoing his seat belt so he could face the boy. Sherlock tensed nervously.  
“I’m sorry lad. I’m a thick prick of an Alpha! You told me no. I heard you but I didn’t bloody listen!”  
Sherlock swallowed nervously and turned his head to face Alan and Riddick stared broken hearted at the boy’s tear stained face.  
“O fuck! I’m sorry! “Alan’s voice was rough with emotion.  
Sherlock inhaled sharply and the ugly words came spilling out. “I HATE being Omega! If I could cut it all out of me I would! I hate the way men look at me and talk about me, I HATE my scent and my slick and the noises I make when Charles ….” Sherlock dragged in a shuddering, disgusted breath. “I know I threw it and you’d paid for it…. and I yelled in your face and everyone heard me and I disrespected you and…. I’m sorry! I know you’re trying to help but I can’t …. use … that!” Sherlock sounded sickened.  
Alan had no words. “It’s alright lad, “was all he had.  
“It’s not though is it? How can it be alright when I’m still like this!” Sherlock said hopelessly.  
Alan gave a huge sigh. “No …. It’s fucked up, all of it, everyone who’s ever fucking touched you and hurt you …. I’d kill them all if it’d bloody help.” Alan’s voice was stripped bare, he felt so flattened by exhaustion he could barely think. Sherlock was so damaged he didn’t even want to touch himself and that was a fucking tragedy.

“Let’s go home lad. You and me. Forget today ever happened?” Alan knew he was pleading but he hadn’t the energy left to care about his Alpha pride, he wanted Sherlock home where he could keep him safe and if they never went into town again Alan didn’t give a fuck.  
Sherlock gave a small tight nod and Alan turned on the ignition and drove carefully back onto the empty road. Riddick could see the boy wiping his eyes when he thought Alan wasn’t looking.  
It was late when they pulled up outside the house. The sky was ugly and threatening with dark ominous clouds promising more heavy snow. The wind chime was banging against the porch wall and the cabin looked bleak and desolate.  
Inside the sitting room was cold and dark and Alan took a look at the dying embers of the ash filled wood burning stove and didn’t want to relight the fire or cook, he just wanted this day over and gone.  
“You hungry? “He had to ask. Alan knew he sounded defeated.  
Sherlock shook his head miserably. He still wasn’t talking.  
“Let’s go to bed so.”  
The bedroom was even colder, the reinforced welded metal shutters Alan had fitted and painted with white gloss to make them less oppressive, were cold to the touch and the door clanged as Sherlock closed it, like a cell door. Alan turned his back as Sherlock undressed and pulled on the old T shirt and grey PJ bottoms he slept in, he kept his back turned and waited until the boy was shivering in the cold bed before Alan sat on his side of the mattress to unlace his boots and pull off his belt. Riddick placed his gun on the floor where he could reach it but it wouldn’t be seen should anyone come in. He dropped his belt carelessly on the floor along with his wallet and keys before swinging his feet up onto the bed.  
Alan punched at his pillow, bunching it up under his neck impatiently as he pulled the blanket up. It barely covered him but right now Alan couldn’t care less. He just wanted to sleep.

Three hours later and Alan was still awake. freezing cold and mulling over every shit decision he’d made that day, starting with the one that had seen Sherlock call Mycroft. Sherlock’s sweet vanilla scent was making Alan’s stomach growl hungrily and Alan gave a resigned, morose sigh as he stared open eyed into the dark. Christ he’d pulled Sherlock down a stinking alley, shoved him into a wall and pinned him there until Sherlock panicked. As fuck up’s went it felt like a huge one and Alan wanted to punch himself for making it.  
“Alan?” Sherlock’s voice was worried.  
“Can’t you sleep?” Alan turned to look at him as Sherlock shook his head. “Me neither.” Alan admitted. “Let’s get up, I’ll put the kettle on. It’s too fucking cold to sleep.”  
Alan made the tea, padding about the tiny kitchen in his socked feet, while Sherlock sat hunched on the couch with Alan’s old army blanket pulled around him. Alan watched as the lad’s long, thin fingers pulled at the stitching anxiously.  
“Hungry? “  
Sherlock shook his head unhappily. Alan could see how strung out the boy was from over the other side of the room and he came to sit on the couch arm. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”  
Sherlock didn’t look up; his voice was almost ashamed. “That …. thing you did…on my bite….” He stopped talking, embarrassed and awkward., his face turned shyly away.  
Alan was glad the lad wasn’t looking his way, he knew his face showed every emotion he didn’t want Sherlock to see as he tried to find the words to apologise. He knew it…. overstepping his fucking boundaries like that! He didn’t know what to say to explain why’d he’d thought it was a good idea.  
When Alan didn’t say anything Sherlock tried again, rushing his words out on one shaky exhalation. “Would you do it again? …. Please?” Sherlock sounded almost as anxious about not asking politely as he did about asking at all. Finally, he looked up right into Alan’s speechless face. As soon as he saw the Alpha’s gobsmacked expression Sherlock blushed a deep humiliated red and ducked his head back down.  
Alan rushed his answer out before the lad could panic ….” Yes!” Sherlock’s head jerked up and he stared at Alan, he looked shocked that Alan had agreed. “Course I’ll do it.” Alan could hear the emotional edge to his voice.  
“Ok ….” Sherlock sounded incredulous, like he couldn’t believe he’d asked at all.

Alan felt like a stunned fish, flopping on the grassy bank, bewildered that something he’d wanted for so long was actually being freely given to him and after such a bloody disaster of a day ….it was hard to believe he’d heard the boy right.  
Say something you bloody fool he pushed himself! “ Here or on the….?” Oh Jesus Christ Alan you sodding idiot …. don’t say on the bed! Alan’s brain yelled at him.  
Sherlock’s eyes darted to the bedroom door and away, like he was going to make a run for it if Alan so much as said the ‘bed ‘word.  
“Here …so ….do you want to sit down?” Shut up Alan you bloody moron, of course he wants to sit, how else are you going to do it…. standing up?  
Alan shifted back along the seat a little, making space and Sherlock took a big breath in before moving up closer to the middle of the two seat cushions, he was stiff with fear.  
C’mon Alan, keep it together… try and sound like you know what you’re fucking doing at least! “There you go. Just move back a little to me lad….”  
“I can’t.” Sherlock sounded terrified.  
“You can’t? It’s okay, you don’t have too. No pressure.” Alan felt disappointment clench hard but he tried to keep it from his voice. He wanted this.  
“I want too…. I just can’t move!”  
“It’s okay… Shift back to me a little…. good lad. Put your arm on the couch back …. there you go. That’s it.” Alan steadied the boy, keeping his voice low and intimate.  
Sherlock was so close, his hip almost touching Alan’s muscular thigh, face turned shyly away, the heavy green blanket hugged over his body like a safety blanket as he dropped his head submissively.

Alan moved in slowly, scared he’d spook the Omega, letting his broad hand lay gently on Sherlock’s pale shoulder…. feeling warm skin, the stretched long muscle of a dancer’s lean body and soft smooth skin.  
Sherlock flinched as Alan’ hand landed but he didn’t say stop and Alan let his hand rest there for a second, letting Sherlock adjust to it before Alan’s thumb slid in a slow pressing slide down the side of the boy’s neck and under the bond bite’s raised edges to stroke gently around the fragile bones of the Omega’s spine.  
Sherlock was still tense, unable to let himself relax as Alan’s hand finally closed over the bite and encased it. The deepest marks, where Magnussen’s fangs had torn skin, provided shallow grooves for Alan’s fingers to run along and he traced every white scar as gently as he could, stroking tactilely. When Sherlock began to trust and turned his face against the couch back Alan leant in closer, fingers cupping the edges of the boy’s damaged skin and pushing either side of the bond bite with a strong, deep pressure.  
Sherlock’s breathing slowed as his muscles loosened and his body slouched sideways. All Alan’s concentration was intently focused on the feel of the boy’s beautiful skin, the angry worries and fears of the day Alan had been unable to let go; faded away as Riddick’s own tense breathing calmed. The endless longing he’d been feeling , ever since he’d woken up in a car filled with Sherlock’s Omega scent, condensed right down to the single point of contact between Sherlock’s vulnerable body and his own.

This close to his heat Sherlock’s bite was hotly flushed, suffused with lymph that spread like warmed massage oil over and through Alan’s fingers. Alan’s thumb dipped into the spaces in between the welts and Sherlock murmured something under his breath, slumping weakly sideways in a loose limbed heap. Alan had never smelt anything like it and he closed his eyes as he remembered …. Billy’s skin had smelt more like green, crisp apples, before the chemo had leached any scent away and replaced it with a sharp chemical tang. Sherlock’s elite scent was rich and sensuous, heavy with vanilla, it filled Alan’s throat and made him want to fasten his mouth to the boy’s skin and suck. Alan shook himself …aware he’d been about to lower his head; his mouth down to the bare nape of Sherlock’s neck. Riddick’s fingers stopped dead, he made himself move back, knowing his cock had thickened. He shouldn’t be this close. The boy trusted him!

Riddick moved to the edge of the seat and reached back to tug the heavy green blanket slowly from Sherlock’s lap and tuck it around the boy covering him up before Alan stood up stiffly and went through to the cold bedroom to sleep in the bed under the duvet for once. The sheet and pillow held traces of Sherlock’s scent and Alan sucked that sweet taste deep down into his lungs until his cock was hard and aching and he took himself in hand, spilling his seed before he even knew what he was doing and passing out right after with a numb unthinking exhaustion.  
Alan woke up with his cock feeling like it was stuck to his tight boxers. He felt hung over despite not having had a single drink. He peeled off his soiled clothes and hit the shower, hot wet suds streaming down his naked body. His cock was hard again already and Alan palmed its thick length under the water without finesse until he came.  
He already knew what was wrong with him before he opened the bedroom door and took a long delicious breath in. Bloody Hell! Sherlock’s scented sweetness was everywhere.

Sherlock took longer to wake and it was breakfast time before Alan saw him come slowly back into himself …. even when he sat up his voice sounded slurred and unaware. “Alan?”  
Riddick took a giant gulp of tea to loosen the aroused tightness in his voice before he spoke…. the room was full of Sherlock’s soft scent and Alan had been breathing it quietly in for hours. “Right here lad. Made you tea.” The boy wasn’t even in heat yet and already Alan wanted to bite him. Bloody Hell!  
“I’m still sleepy.” Sherlock’s young voice was puzzled.  
“Yeah? It’ll do that to you.” Alan drank more tea and watched the boy as he tucked a long lean leg under himself.... Fuck! He was beautiful like this, all loose limbed and smudged around the edges, sweet and kissable.... “Nice to give as well. Works both ways I reckon. “

Alan bought him over a mug of tea and some toast., holding his breath as Sherlock took the mug in his elegant, long fingered hands. Alan went back to the kitchen and opened a window. Cold clear air streamed in. Alan took several big mouthfuls. Sherlock had pushed the blanket off, he looked hot and he wasn’t drinking his tea.  
Alan ran a cold glass of water and gave it to him instead and Sherlock drank it all. Alan retreated to the kitchen again.

Sherlock looked up curiously. “It’s something you did before …. with someone else? Before me.”  
“It was.” Alan said gruffly. “I was bonded before; you know that.”  
“I heard you tell Mycroft.”  
“His name was Billy.” Alan knew his voice had changed. “My brother was a carpenter, he had this job building a row of aviary’s at the local wildlife sanctuary. He paid me to help him out, I was sixteen; needed the money. Any money I got I saved.  
“Billy loved birds of prey…. they’d falcons, baby owls, couple of goshawks with broken wings.” Alan put his mug down in case he broke the handle like he’d done before when his grip got too hard…. He pushed himself to keep talking, get the words out before he couldn’t. “Lunchtime my brother would bugger off down the pub, get piss drunk … Billy'd be there eating his sandwiches, talking to the owl like it bloody knew what he was saying. “  
Alan could still see Billy’s shy smile the first time he’d sat on the wall next to him to eat his lunch..

“First date we went on my step dad saw me walking him home. Beat the shit out of me, called me a dirty Omega fucker ….” Alan laughed bitterly. “That was how things were back there, small minded community… real men fucked women not boys. You could be an abusive bastard to your wife and kids but you couldn’t date an Omega and call yourself a man! I didn’t care what anyone thought. I loved him. Asked him if he’d bond .… he said yes, thank Christ. I made a right mess out of asking him, I was that nervous, tripped over my tongue, dropped the sodding ring! Soon as I could; soon as I had the money, I got us out of there, away from all of them.... Rented a bed- sit close to barracks, it was bloody disgusting, one shared bath between three rooms, shared toilet, one small empty room with a pull out sofa bed I raided from a skip. “  
Alan stopped talking …this was where talking out loud got harder. “I was away a lot, months at a time. I made the SAS like I’d always wanted, had a couple duty tours in Northern Ireland…. Billy stayed on heat suppressants. Illegal ones. He had to, living so close to other Alpha like that, in a shared house without me being there looking out for him …. there was no bloody way around it.” Alan shook his head.  
“He started feeling sick a lot, backache, lost weight, stomach pains. I was always at him every time I had leave to go see a Doctor but he hated them …. you’d understand why, being Omega, you know what some of those Alpha Doctors are like. Worse in the free clinics. When he started bleeding all the time I made him go to the hospital, wouldn’t take no for an answer …. he’d cancer. “Alan stared blankly at the table top. “They said a year, we’d have that, if they took his womb out, but it was worse than they thought so they took everything, hollowed him out…. he was gone in six months. Cancer of the fucking womb…. He’d only ever had seven heats in his whole life.” Alan hunched his shoulders against the pain. Even after all these years it tore holes in his gut even saying it. It broke his fucking heart.

“I’m sorry Alan.... You loved him. He loved you.... Life isn’t fair."   
Sherlock was right there and Alan dragged his eyes up as he drowned in Sherlock’s saturated scent.  
All he wanted was a hug, just a hug.... then he’d let him go. It’d been years since Billy’d been in his arms. He knew Sherlock could read him like a book…. his face and his heart laid bare for the boy to see and know  
Sherlock stepped into Alan’s body space, just like he’d done once before, down by the lake in Magnussen’s garden when Alan had kissed him, and his head tucked into Alan’s chest like a child, hiding his lovely face from the world. Alan caught him and hugged him and despite everything he’d promised himself he didn’t let the boy go, he wrapped him round and held him tight. He would have held him forever and he knew it.


	14. The Truth Proves Hard To Swallow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John agrees to meet with a mystery Elite Alpha who has an Omega brother in need of help.

It was a damp, cold morning and Paddington Gardens was empty. John was sat watching a pigeon with only one complete foot peck closer and closer to his shoe.  
“Shoo! Bloody things, like feathered rats!” Greg Lestrade sat as he dropped down onto the bench next to John.” Bought you a coffee from the café.”  
“Thanks.” John grinned as he took the takeaway drink. “I had a pet rat once, called him Neville after Chamberlain, used to feed him cheese and onion crisps off my shoulder.”  
“Ugh!” Greg pulled a face and John’s cheeky grin widened as he took a cautious sip of piping hot coffee. Greg took advantage of John’s momentary lapse in concentration to take a look at John’s face. What he saw was worrying, the Alpha looked less dynamic, less vital, paler and more tired than Greg had ever seen him look.  
John cast a thoughtful look Greg’s way. “I’m a lot better than I was.” The one footed pigeon from earlier reappeared and began pecking around John’s outstretched foot and the walking stick John had propped up against the wooden bench.  
“Still …it was a close shave John.” A bullet to the shoulder and a resulting infection that ate away at tissue and muscle alike was nothing to laugh at Greg knew and John had been in intensive care for months.  
John rubbed hard with the flat of his hand along his thigh muscle, the damp and cold always made the pain worse until the whole thigh felt stiff and unpleasantly taut. If Greg noticed, he was too much of a good friend to pass comment.

“Thanks for agreeing to this John.”  
“Its fine. Bring him along, eight o’clock tonight. 225 Western Road, Elephant and Castle. It’s an intercom entrance system, the name is Emmett. I’ll hear him out. Wouldn’t want to pass up my chance to see just how big of a monumental asshole this Alpha Elite friend of yours is.” John took another sip of coffee.  
Greg gave a patient sigh. “Give him a chance John? For me? I like him.”  
“Yeah, that much is obvious,” John smiled.  
“He comes across like your typical Alpha prat but that’s all front John…. he really loves his brother. Enough to risk his career for him.”  
“I can relate to that.” John replied thoughtfully “ But I’m here because you asked me Greg… I’m here for you and this guy’s Omega brother…. not some a tosser of an Elite no matter how charming he may seem.”  
“I appreciate it John. You know that.”

John hid a frown as he looked down into his coffee. Greg had worked phenomenally hard to get where he was today, a Detective Inspector at New Scotland Yard in a police force dominated by Alphas’ and Betas’. He’d put in double the hours, ignored his own body, worked harder than anyone else for every promotion he’d made and John resented the idea that some entitled twat of an Elite Alpha who would never bond outside his social class was messing with Greg’s head and heart just because he could. John stood with a sigh, using his walking stick heavily as he felt the weight strain the muscle.... “Eight tonight Greg, don’t let him be late. “

It was raining heavily. Greg arrived early and stood with his index finger pressed hard on the intercom for several long minutes until John buzzed him up. Inside each floor opened out into long featureless corridors and a long line of numbered anonymous doors. The flat was so empty their voices echoed.  
There were three mugs on the counter top with old tea inside and another three left behind on a shelf next to a half-eaten packet of digestives had spilled crumbs over the worktop. Greg could see mouse droppings amid the crumbs.  
The buzzer sounded, loudly discordant in the empty hallway. “That’ll be him. I’ll bring him up. Give him a chance?”  
“I said I would didn’t I.” John said tiredly.

The door shut behind Greg and John frowned, reminding himself that however much of a snobbish jerk this Elite Alpha would undoubtedly turn out to be, he had an Omega brother who needed help; just like Sherlock once had.  
The front door opened and John heard footsteps. A pair of expensive Oxford brogues, immaculately polished stopped a polite distance from John’s own feet.  
“John this is….” Greg hesitated unsure if he should use the first name or the family name since Mycroft was an Elite Alpha.  
“Mycroft Holmes….and we’ve met before…. Hello John.”  
John’s surprised hazel eyes locked with Mycroft’s astute, bluish grey evaluative gaze in the closest thing he’d felt to genuine shock in years.  
“Crap! You two know each other?” Greg was instantly concerned for John’s safety and he caught Mycroft by one wrist, twisting it up behind the Alpha’s back in his standard arrest move. “I wouldn’t have bought him John if I’d known. He said his brother needed help!”  
Mycroft made no move to free himself or struggle. He could hear the worry in Greg’s voice. “Nothing of what we discussed was in any way deceitful Gregory. I do indeed have an Omega brother; as John knows well….”  
“Let him go Greg.”  
Greg did and Mycroft stepped away without fuss.  
Mycroft’s sharp stare hadn’t moved from John’s face with its recently etched lines of pain and sheer exhaustion. John’s voice was incredulous as he asked. “Sherlock’s the Omega who wants to break his bond legally?” Mycroft could hear the raw emotion in John’s words. The shock.... “It’s Sherlock who wants a lawyer?”  
“Not exactly.... I am acting for him in this matter."  
John shook his head as though he thought it would clear the sudden flood of memories....”It’s been years Mycroft.”

“You two do bloody know each other! How? “Greg’s worry at the sudden unpredictability of this situation was obvious.  
“We met very briefly, some years ago. “Mycroft barely explained anything.  
It was John who looked right at Greg as he answered, “Sherlock is _the _Omega Greg.... the boy I shared a room with at school.”__  
“Bloody Heck. What were the odds on that!” Greg swore softly.  
“I’m sure Sherlock would be able to tell you exactly, were he here.” Mycroft’s voice was dryly amused.  
John’s hazel eyes travelled to the window and to the black car waiting at the kerbside. “He isn’t here?” John’s voice ached as he asked.  
“No John.” Mycroft looked at John with compassion as he spoke, the sadness in his own refined voice unhidden. I’m afraid I have no idea where he is or even if he is safe and well.”  
The change in John’s eyes was sudden and profound, the soldier breaking through, alert and protective, strong and assured. “How could you not know? How can you bring any legal case without him?”

____

Two hours into the conversation and Greg was wishing he’d bought a bottle of Scotch with him. They could all have used a drink. Mycroft’s voice was showing subtle traces of strain and Greg hated the bleakly resigned pain he could see in the Alpha’s intelligent eyes as he reached into his calfskin briefcase and placed a folder and a memory card on the worktop in front of John.  
“What’s this?” John asked, making no move to open the folder under his hand.  
“Surveillance from many of the hotels Magnussen and Sherlock have stayed at. There have been several. Photographic evidence from inside Magnussen’s homes.” Mycroft’s tired voice faltered before he had control again seamlessly. “Recent footage from an informant among Magnussen’s most trusted staff. All show Magnussen’s violent, horrific abuse of my brother.”  
John made no move to open the folder but his mouth tightened and the knuckles of the hand upon the folder were white with pressure. “Give me a minute.“  
Mycroft nodded and John picked up the folder and walked brusquely through to another room.

Greg watched John limp heavily away. “I don’t know about you, but I could do with a stiff drink right about now.”  
Mycroft seemed to surface from a world of his own. “What would you like to drink Gregory?”  
“Whisky…It’s not important. Forget I said anything. “Greg was focused on Mycroft. The silence spoke loudly.  
Mycroft glanced down at the screen of his mobile phone and sent a quick text before replacing it inside his coat pocket. He seemed distant. Distracted.  
“What’s John looking at in there? How bad is it?”  
Mycroft shook his head mutely just as there was a knock at the door. Greg looked at him before answering it, returning with a bottle of Scotch in one hand. Mycroft retrieved the three mugs and Greg rinsed the dust off them under cold water in the kitchen sink before pouring a generous slug into all three.  
Greg took a mouthful before he spoke. “You never told me how bad things were for Sherlock…. for you.”  
“For me? Gregory… I wasn’t the one being beaten, abused…. raped. I was safe in my own country, my own life, carving out my all-important career, making the necessary connections.” The bitter contempt in Mycroft’s voice as he described himself was hard to hear and Greg reached out and touched the Alpha’s upper arm in a gesture of support. Mycroft looked surprised and for a second Greg thought perhaps there was more in the Alpha’s eyes …. but then the door opened and Mycroft stepped back.

John slammed the folder Mycroft had given him flat on the counter top and shouted across it at Mycroft. He looked sickened, angry almost beyond words. “Why the fuck did you leave him there like that? God in Christ Mycroft.... WHY? “  
Mycroft winced. “I tried John…”  
“Not fucking hard enough! God! “John leant on the counter heavily, breathing through the pain.” Oh Christ…. Sherlock!” John’s voice broke on Sherlock’s name.

Mycroft didn’t even try to defend himself, Greg couldn’t stand by and say nothing. “Let him answer John …he had no choice!” Greg wanted Mycroft’s side to be heard. He knew how the man had been torn apart by this.  
John’s dangerous eyes met Greg’s and he flipped the folder open upon the worktop. Greg glanced down to see countless images of abuse, the top one showing a pale, fragile, dark haired teenage boy being strangled on a bed by a tall, severe Alpha. The boy’s hands were pulling desperately at the Alpha’s wrists but the man’s face was expressionless. There were more photos showing the Alpha on top of the terrified Omega, pinning the naked boy, forcing him against a table with one hand fisted in the boy's dark hair. Greg estimated there had to be over fifty photos in that one folder.  
John’s angry gaze was locked with Greg’s. “That’s been his life Greg. It’s all here…. in fucking photos! Years of photos.”  
“John …” Greg’s face showed his own shock.  
John shut the folder and placed his hand on top, almost protectively. “I’m listening…so talk.”

Mycroft spoke into the angry silence; his eyes didn’t drop from John’s. “For the first few months I had no information what so ever regarding Sherlock. He never left Magnussen’s house unless it was in a convoy of cars en route to the airport to board a private flight to another one of Magnussen’s residences. He was never seen in public outside of those times. Magnussen’s homes were all the same, highly secure, impregnable. His staff were carefully vetted and chosen well…they were loyal. None had any weaknesses I could exploit. The only times I saw my brother at all was on footage obtained from the hotels Magnussen occasionally stayed at. He had a suite at the Café Royalle in Paris. Another at the Savoy. I knew Sherlock was profoundly unhappy, I suspected he was intimidated into compliance but I saw no evidence of brutality outside of that used in a sexual context. “  
John’s jaw was clenched. “You mean rape.”  
Mycroft took a generous mouthful of Scotch. “There were elements of …. force... in very many of the sexual encounters I observed. If not legally rape, on many occassions it was clearly not consensual or painless.”  
John took a deep breath.  
“I was …. unable to identify any weaknesses in a single one of Magnussen’s staff until Sherlock suffered his fourth early miscarriage. Footage from inside the hospital showed Magnussen’s head of security, an Alpha by the name of Riddick, interacting with my brother in small ways …. showing concern, a level of care that had become more personal. Approaches were made of course, a considerable sum of money offered discretely….to no avail. The man seemed as loyal to Magnussen as ever despite what I had witnessed. Then out of the blue the same bodyguard initiated contact himself, he was prepared to provide intel from inside Magnussen’s homes. Indeed, he was in an ideal position to do so, he had daily contact with Sherlock.”  
John took a hard gulp of Scotch.

“A few months after Magnussen’s son was born Riddick and I were communicating on a fairly regular basis and he had progressed to providing photographic evidence and camera footage when he chose, mostly the evidence was anecdotal, he witnessed Sherlock being physically, mentally…sexually abused on several occasions.  
“Did he help Sherlock? In any way?” John had to ask, he had to know. ”Did Sherlock have someone on his side?”  
“To begin with …. no. Riddick’s behaviour as I viewed it on numerous occasions remained professional, he was not unkind but neither was he involved at any meaningful emotional level. That changed following the birth of a stillborn child.” John made a choked sound in his throat but didn’t interrupt. Mycroft’s looked at Greg’s warm brown eyes for a moment before he continued. “In hindsight I believe a ‘relationship’ of sorts began then, an emotional reliance upon the man from Sherlock perhaps and what I considered to be a paternal form of care from Alan Riddick.” Mycroft sounded as weary as he felt.  
“Over the last two years Charles Magnussen’s abuse of my brother has increased in both frequency and severity and Sherlock has made several attempts to end his own life. “  
Greg was watching Mycroft closely and suddenly he became aware Mycroft was holding something back, deliberately omitting it. John saw it too and he met Greg’s eyes.  
“What aren’t you saying?” John was matter of fact, almost blunt.  
“it’s of no relevance.” Mycroft sounded surprised to be confronted about his actions.  
“I’ll decide that.” John was abrupt. “You want my help; the price is total honesty.”  
“Very well…. One of Sherlock’s suicide attempts resulted in the loss of Magnussen’s unborn child. Sherlock mixed and drank a cocktail of chemicals.”  
Greg inhaled sharply through his nose. He could only imagine the desperation that would lead someone to do that.  
“Fuck!” John’s mouth twisted in pain and Mycroft fell silent.

When Mycroft spoke again his voice was crisp, unemotional and determined. “In October I was contacted by Riddick, he was increasingly concerned about Sherlock’s mental health.”  
John shook his head in sheer disbelief.  
“I was able to speak to Sherlock using Riddick’s own mobile phone. Sherlock told me he was pregnant and he had been informed by Magnussen’s own physician that the pup was Omega. He begged for my help to end the pregnancy.” Greg was stunned and John’s ragged inhalation was a shock.  
“I agreed but …. things didn’t go to plan. Sherlock almost died.”  
John was breathing hard, hands clenched.  
“Magnussen’s own in house doctor suspected at once that the miscarriage had been deliberately induced. I lost the goodwill, the co-operation of Alan Riddick, he disagreed strongly with the decision to end the pregnancy, despite it being in Sherlock’s best interests to have done so. He felt deceived and refused to speak with me or to provide me with any more information. For a period of several weeks, he refused all contact with Sherlock ….”  
“He was fucking alone? “John was incredulously angry. “After everything he’d been through? He had no one?”  
“He was. When intel obtained from the private hospital showed me what was happening I met face to face with Riddick, I hoped to make him reconsider…. the meeting went badly. I underestimated his anger. He severed all contact.”

John ran a hand roughly over his face, the onslaught of information was agony to hear, knowing this had been Sherlock’s reality was staggeringly hard to accept. John closed his eyes for a moment and saw Sherlock’s young, vulnerable face the day Magnussen took him away. He blinked his eyes open to see Mycroft’s knowing eyes looking at him.  
“At the time it didn’t appear that Magnussen was aware that the loss of the pregnancy was anything more than a tragic accident but following another incident it became obvious that wasn’t so….”  
“An incident? What incident?” John was brusque as he demanded answers.  
Mycroft shook his head in negation. “A ritualised assault … multiple acts of rape …. the footage I was provided with by Alan Riddick is on the memory stick. I do not recommend you watch it John. “  
Mycroft took another swallow of Scotch. “Riddick made contact after the events of that night. He told me that Sherlock had attempted to hang himself and almost succeeded. He informed me that Magnussen was considering surgically castrating Sherlock to increase his fertility….”  
O Christ Almighty!” John’s voice was hoarse with shock. Greg couldn’t speak.  
“It was all too believable; I was aware that the same surgery had already been performed upon an Omega belonging to one of Magnussen’s closest associates. It was decided there was no longer any option …. though I had no legal position as Sherlock’s brother anymore and would be acting illegally…. I couldn’t allow….” Mycroft looked down at his perfectly manicured hands and straightened his Cartier watch before he was able to continue. “I agreed to remove him to a place of safety. Riddick was to extract Sherlock and once outside we would move in swiftly. We were standing by, ready. The plan was derailed by circumstances I could not have foreseen….” Mycroft sounded like he was still trying to convince himself of that.

“Where is Sherlock? Right now Mycroft, where is he and don’t bloody tell me you don’t know!”  
“In the company of Alan Riddick. Any contact I have has been severely curtailed. Two phone calls only over the past three, almost four, weeks. Both made from untraceable burner phones. Some camera footage from Sweden, some from Finland. I believe them to be off grid; judging from the purchases made…. The man dislikes me John, he distrusts me to such a degree he can barely bring himself to talk to me.”  
“Won’t your brother listen to you? “Greg interrupted.  
“it’s been a disaster Gregory. A complete and utter disaster. I have tried to communicate my concerns. The calls were ended by Riddick as soon as Sherlock became upset. My brother becomes distressed at any mention of sex. Sherlock’s emotional, nearing heat, Riddick is unbonded, unpredictable….”  
“He’s fucking what? Christ!” John punched his fists down on the worktop hard.  
“Sherlock is …. he isn’t the boy you knew John. He’s incredibly fragile and easily upset, very emotional, irrational, easily overwhelmed….”  
“Of course he bloody isn’t the same! For God’s sake Mycroft he’s been through Hell! He needs help, professional help, stability, his family supporting him, a safe place to deal with what he’s been through, time ….do you even know if he’s getting any of that because this won’t fix its bloody self!”

Mycroft flushed. “I have done all I can John. My agents have tracked him all the way down to Finland from Denmark using any camera’s that recorded them on the way. Riddick is far from stupid, the license plates were deliberately changed and impossible to trace. Sherlock’s appearance was altered before they left Denmark.”  
“Show me.” John’s voice was tight with grief.  
Mycroft opened his wallet and took out a small folded black and white photo, he handed it to John without a word. Sherlock was unbelievably frail; he looked ill. John could see he was seriously underweight. John cold see his bones through his clothing. Sherlock’s soft , gorgeous curls were gone and in their place was a brutally short, shaven head that threw Sherlock’s huge eyes and high cheekbones into sharp focus. John opened up the photo and stared at the tall, dark haired, muscular man who was walking just behind Sherlock. He towered over the Omega.  
“Is that him?” john’s voice was flat as he hid his automatic jealousy. Mycroft of course saw it right away.

Mycroft nodded. “The last conversation I had with Sherlock was on Monday of this week, he complained of feeling unwell, he was clearly ovulating …. I expressed numerous concerns about his safety during his heat. Everything was justified but he became very distressed. I tried to reason with him but the call was ended by Riddick himself. He claims he has no intention of harming Sherlock and that he will be safe during his heat….” The doubt in Mycroft’s tone was clear to Greg and John both.  
“You don’t believe that do you? John’s voice was challenging.  
“I do not. I believe that whatever his intentions he has severely underestimated his Alpha instincts!” Mycroft met John’s belligerent stare. “If Riddick is aggressively violent in his sexual demands... I believe Sherlock will submit and allow it.”  
To John’s surprise it was Greg who spoke up, his voice thickly laced with anger. “What are you bloody basing that on Mycroft? Because he is Omega and in heat he must be gagging for it so much he doesn’t care who fucks him or how? He has rights over his own body …or he bloody would have in any section of society other than the Elite shit he was born into! Nobody deserves to be forced!”  
Mycroft winced. “Gregory! That isn’t how I think as you know well. I love Sherlock with all my heart. Am I wrong if I am relieved that I believe he would submit, if it means he isn’t hurt any more than he has been?”  
John spoke, his decisive tone cutting straight through the argument between Greg and Mycroft. “You think he’ll submit because he has submitted …. but what choice did he ever have Mycroft? He’s been alone, surrounded by lackeys with camera’s filming his every move and behind every one there’s been a human being watching him! Sherlock's gentle, shy, clever...he must have been so scared …. of course he kept his head down, tried to do as he was told, didn’t want to get hurt…. Jesus! This has been his life, pawed over and abused by a man he hates! I’ll never forgive you for leaving him there as long as you have! He may forgive you if you are bloody lucky but I never will!”

Mycroft refused to allow his eyes to drop down. This was ALL for Sherlock! “Will you help me John or not?”  
John’s sigh came from deep in his chest. “It goes without saying I’d hope? Sherlock means the world to me. Whatever it takes …from now on we’re a team. You, me, Greg, whoever else I can get on board. For Sherlock I’ll do anything.”  
“Count me in. “Greg said.  
“For Sherlock.” Mycroft said, his voice deeper than usual and it sounded like a vow.  
“For Sherlock….” John said and he refilled his drink and drank it all down to the last bitter drop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say a BIG thank you to everyone who has left me a comment or kudos and to everyone who has carried on reading ! You all are AWESOME!


	15. Instinct and Hormones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock slips into heat just as the Police arrive and Alan finds the reality is going to be a LOT harder to control than he had imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's words are Danish  
> Av, denne skide ondt.....Ow, this fucking hurts.
> 
> Also it is now semi official .... In this story Mycroft Holmes can be wrong ....very rarely

Riddick was breathing hard, sweating over his chest and back, the black Nike singlet he was wearing stuck to his damp skin as he swung the heavy kettle bell up to shoulder height with one arm using a hip hinge action. He’d been working out at full intensity for almost an hour, doing interval training around a make shift circuit…trying to exhaust his body temporarily.  
Alan gulped some water from his water bottle before hitting the punch bag hard, working out his frustrations by imagining he was beating the shit out of them always helped. The fast energetic punching made it harder to think about what was ahead and imagining Mycroft Holmes as the punch bag made for some brutal combinations. He was not a bloody rapist!...punch, punch, punch!

Yesterday had been a good day, Sherlock had been feeling just fine, no cramps, the boy had even had an appetite. Alan knew it was just a false lull in the Omega’s body before his heat hit hard but even so it had been a break from the rising tension for both of them. Alan had rigged up a target and Sherlock had handled the handgun well for his first time, pacing his shots without rushing it and he hadn’t been too far off with some of his aiming for a novice either. He’d even flashed Alan a sharp, satisfied smile after looking at the bullet holes peppering the male body of the target and Alan had wondered who, if anyone, the boy had imagined as his target when he placed his shots

This morning had been very different. Sherlock hadn’t slept well; he’d looked ill from the moment he woke up. He’d pushed his breakfast around the plate without eating anything and gone back to bed without a word of conversation. Half an hour later and he was back, tense and miserable, laying on the couch with his back to Alan, pulling the heavy wool blanket over himself while he shivered and throwing it off again as soon as he began to burn up. Alan had bought him over coffee to warm him up when he shivered and shook and water to cool him down while he tossed and kicked the blanket off onto the floor with his feet.

The intense rich scent of fresh vanilla was making Alan’s mouth water from a safe distance across the room; even with the door wide open and a steady stream of cold air flowing in. Alan knew, even without the reactions of his own body to tell him, that this was it. The lad’s agitated behaviour, the sharp edge to the Omega’s cramps that had the boy changing position restlessly; unable to settle for long whatever he tried, and the thickening scent all showed Sherlock was right on the cusp of heat.  
Without saying a word Alan went quietly into the bedroom and stripped the bed, stretching the waterproof sheet he had bought over the old mattress before remaking the bed with clean bedding. He left a couple of spare blankets in case the boy wanted to sleep underneath a pile of them …. Billy’d always done it that way, every single piece of bedding thrown into a messy heap that hid him totally from view. Alan closed the heavy, reinforced welded metal shutters and bolted them together. Then he went back into the kitchen and carried a six pack of bottled water through, placing the litre bottles on the floor next to the window. He made sure there was a couple of clean mugs on the window sill. He knew Sherlock wouldn’t eat during a heat, his digestive system was designed to shut down and place less stress on his body at this time, but Omega were often thirsty. Just in case Alan left a couple of protein bars next to the clean mugs.

When Riddick came back into the main room Sherlock was sat hunched over, hugging his stomach, the open packet of heat medication Alan had bought him at the supermarket was next to him on the arm of the couch and Alan was glad Sherlock had used it. Hopefully it’d take the edge off the worsening cramps.  
“Taking a shower!” Alan called over his shoulder as he closed the bathroom door. He didn’t think the lad needed to know he planned on several rapid wanks under the water to relieve the desire coiled tightly low in his belly. Coming hard twice barely took the edge off and Alan had headed straight out onto the deck to work out, the less time he spent breathing in Sherlock’s gorgeous scent the more controlled he knew he would be.  
Outside the still cold air came as a relief to Alan after the shallow, restricted breathing he was limited to inside the small house. Alan stood facing the tree line, repeating his mantra inside his head…. You aren’t going to hurt him. Hands off him. Don’t fucking hurt him. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t ….

Alan stayed outside quietly, just watching the snow fall and settle silently in a thick blanket of purest white when he saw a movement, a flash of black and white as a car drove slowly along the heavily treed lined track that led to the cabin. A moment later and Alan saw the Poliisi car clearly just before it drove into the clearing and pulled up. Alan was still and watchful as two Poliisi officers, dressed in their navy uniforms got out the car. Alan could feel the weight of his handgun in its black holster hidden under his fleece jacket and he kept his voice as relaxed and friendly as he could make it.

“Hi , can I help you?”  
The younger of the two officers, a Beta hailed Alan back. “Are you Alan Riddick?”  
“Yeah, I’m Alan.”  
“You are English?” The Beta switched to English.  
“I am yeah." Alan gave an easy smile. “Been coming here long enough to pick up a fair bit of the language though. You’re looking for me?  
Alan watched out the corner of his eye as the other officer, an Alpha, went over to the Land Rover and took a look into its windows. Alan didn’t care, he knew there was nothing to see in the car except for a tourist guide to Helsinki.  
“Good spot for a cabin.”  
“Thanks, it’s a self-build. Great base for ice fishing.” Alan made sure he stayed relaxed and chatty. “I try to get up here a couple of times a year.”  
The Beta’s eyes were looking over the house as he spoke “What do you fish for?”  
“Pike, lovely eating especially when its cooked up fresh on the ice.”  
The Beta policeman nodded.” I fish myself.”

The Alpha walked slowly back over to his partner. He left the conversation to the Beta but Alan guessed the man spoke a little English, he seemed to be following what was said well enough even if he didn’t talk himself. Alan hid his frown as he heard the man make a comment about the Land Rover having muddy license plates that obscured some of the numbers.  
“Yeah, sorry about that, the track gets muddy, I should have cleaned it off.”  
“Make sure you do before you go out on the road again. Were you in town on Tuesday?”  
Alan made sure he sounded puzzled as though he couldn’t see a reason for the question. “I was yeah. Is there a problem?”  
“We had a report from a member of the public concerning an argument between you and your Omega.”  
“Ahh, “Alan said with a wide knowing grin as if everything suddenly made sense. He was reassured by the policeman referring to Sherlock as if the boy was really Alan’s Omega. “We’d a bit of an argument in the street.” Alan shrugged. “Will is pre-heat; moods all over the place.”

The Beta gave an understanding look., Alan supposed he had dealt with a good few Alphas’ arguing with their Omega in his job.  
“Any chance we can talk to Will? Won’t take long then we’ll be out your way, is he around?”  
Alan swore a long, vehemently savage string of expletives inside his head. “He is yeah. I’ve no problem with you coming in and meeting him as a Beta but not the Alpha. Will’s no more than an hour, maybe two, off his heat. He can be high strung, you know how Omega are and I don’t want the smell of another Alpha affecting him. We’re trying for a baby this time around.”  
The Beta explained and the Alpha nodded, he’d stepped up onto the decking but made no move to follow as Alan and the Beta headed inside. Alan was more sure by the second that the police knew nothing about his story being a bunch of lies.

Sherlock’s scent hit Alan like a physical wall, it was shockingly intense after being outside and Alan sucked in two rich heady lungs full of it before he could stop himself. Alan had no control over his throaty, aroused growl or the sudden thickening of his cock. The lad was much closer to heat that Alan had guessed. The Beta shot him a worried glance. Alphas' could be very unpredictable around an Omega in heat. The Beta placed a hand on his pepper spray.

“You okay Will?” Alan knew his voice showed just how aroused he was already.  
Sherlock was curled on his side obscured under the blanket, skinny back turned to the room. Alan sat on the seat cushion just behind Sherlock’s head, trying to make it harder for the policeman to get a good look at the lad’s face. This close he could tell Sherlock was aware of the Beta and was afraid…the Alpha policeman would have smelt that fear response in seconds but his Beta partner could not.  
The Beta glanced at the barely drunk mug of tea, the half empty glass of water, the pillows and hot water bottle thrown on the floor and the open packet of Omega heat pain pills on the couch arm by Sherlock. Sherlock’s rapid breathing and Alan’s attentive, nurturing arousal were obvious signs that the Omega was almost fertile even though as a Beta the man couldn’t smell the boy’s scent. He could see how badly it was affecting the Omega’s mate though as the man swallowed repeatedly and his hand shook.

Alan was swallowing so desperately because he was trying to clear the boy’s sweet perfume from his throat, his jaw bone was aching as his fangs began the slide down into place and his cock was thickening every time Sherlock gasped. “It’s hard on him this close to heat. The pain….” Alan’s voice was rough with arousal.  
“I am glad I'm Beta...I don't have to feel like this for a week every month.” The Beta sounded sympathetic. “My brother’s bonded, the heats get easier when they’ve had a few pups he thinks.”  
Alan could feel Sherlock getting agitated under his hand as a big cramp twisted at him inside his body. The boy was panting as the cramps grew worse and Alan drew his hand back so Sherlock could move and try lessen the pain. “Alright love, alright.” Alan’s voice was low and intimate, loving. He was shocked when Sherlock rolled over onto his knees, face hidden between his arms before suddenly rolling over again and coming to rest with his face pushing into Alan’s taut stomach muscles, his arms locking around Alan.  
“Av Alan, denne skide ondt!”  
Alan struggled to hold back the urge to pull the boy into his arms and hug him close right there on the couch. He could hear the growl beneath his every breath as Sherlock’s hot, panted exhalations puffed against his six pack.

The Beta stood. “Hope you feel better soon Will. I’ll leave you to it, sorry for bothering you both, we have to follow up on a complaint once its made however foolish.”  
Sherlock was twisting handfuls of Alan’s T-shirt loose from his Nike tracksuit bottoms and Alan fought to make himself reply to the policeman when all he wanted to do was pull Sherlock closer and sink his face into that soft pure skin.  
"I'll see myself out."  
“No problem.” Alan heard the unfriendly, possessive Alpha edge to his voice as he answered. He wanted to be on his own with Sherlock, no, he HAD to be on his own with Sherlock. He lowered his head as the door closed, open mouthed, just above the Omega’s skin against the side of his neck and gulped a sweet mouthful of scent down, filling his lungs before he could fight the urge. In those few seconds Alan was achingly hard.  
“Oh God!” Sherlock was whimpering.

“Up!” Alan knew he was on the edge, he’d no time to be gentle as he caught at Sherlock’s arm and pulled the boy roughly from the couch, sliding one muscled arm under Sherlock’s arse and the other round his back. He lifted the boy as fast as he could. “Fucking HELL!”  
As soon as he had the Omega in his arms Alan held his breath and headed at pace through the bedroom door. Sherlock had pressed his soft face into the hollow at the base of Alan’s neck. Alan felt Sherlock’s plump soft lips open against the salty tang of his sweat…. Alan felt that one touch through his whole body.  
Sherlock was moaning…Alan guessed his cervix was almost open inside him, ready for knotting …. the next instant he was SURE it was; as the arm underneath Sherlock was suddenly wet with slick. The intense sensual invitation was so powerful Alan felt his head swim, he ‘d reached the bed and leant over it on one knee to put the lad down but he couldn’t make himself let go. There was no way he was fucking letting go!  
He bought his hard muscular body over Sherlock’s, biceps enclosing him like a cage. Sherlock wouldn’t look at Alan, he turned his face away, tried to hide his beauty and his soft pink arched mouth and Alan couldn’t bear to let him do that. He covered Sherlock’s face with kisses, muttered pleas scattered over the boy’s pale skin. “Just a kiss. Just a kiss.” God the taste of the boy’s skin!

Sherlock’s tight t-shirt had ridden up and Alan’s flat belly pressed bare against a sliver of Sherlock’s naked skin as he closed his eyes and groaned, thrusting his rigid cock against the sheet between Sherlock’s thighs as though he was fucking the boy already. The friction sent sparks along Alan’s spine.  
Alan lowered his mouth to the side of Sherlock’s long neck and kept it there just above that perfect milky skin, open mouthed, just sucking that rich scent down to the very bottom of his lungs because he could and he’d never get enough of it.  
“Don’t… don’t.”  
Sherlock’s voice was no more than a whisper and he’d closed his eyes. Hiding. Turned his mouth away. Was still and small under him. That wasn’t right, none of it… not when he was so beautiful! Alan couldn’t think straight, every conscious thought he had washed away under a hot tide of desire that scalded his whole body, except for that one word…. repeating over and over, Riddick’s mantra…. don’t, don’t, don’t…....don’t hurt him!  
Abruptly Alan let go shocked at his own behaviour and forced himself back. Sherlock’s eyes opened then; dark and deeply blurred at the same time. Riddick was stunned by how confused, almost drugged by his own body, the Omega looked as he rolled away and struggled blindly to sit up. The wet patch of slick on the back of the boy’s loose grey PJ bottoms had stuck the thin fabric to the tight rise of Sherlock’s taut arse and Alan growled to see it, he wanted to pull that saturated cotton away and suck it into his mouth. Without thought Alan blocked Sherlock’s attempt to move away with a hard, heavily muscled bicep curled around the base of the boy’s slender throat from behind.  
He didn’t pull the Omega back, he just held him there, steadied him, kept him still, didn’t let him go. Couldn't let him move away! Alan could feel the sharp rise of the lad’s collar bones under his satin soft skin as Sherlock swayed forward helplessly, the sudden gush of wet slick, triggered by an Alpha being so close, soaking the already drenched pj’s. Sherlock was saying something over and over but Alan couldn’t make the sounds into words anymore inside his mind nothing was working.

The raw raised edges and weeping skin of Sherlock’s bond bite were laid bare as the neck of his baggy T-shirt gaped open and Alan lowered his head; his mouth, to the raw bite by instinct, needing to taste that leaking, broken skin with its welted patchwork of scars…. only to find Sherlock’s thin fingers and narrow palm were already there covering it protectively as Alan had seen him do hundreds of times on camera. Alan’s firm mouth landed on the back of Sherlock’s slim pale hand and the boy gave a low moan from somewhere in his throat as Alan kissed it again and again until Sherlock gasped pulling his hand away, and let Alan’s lips press against the damaged skin of his bond bite lovingly ; as though it was the most beautiful thing in the world. He heard the shocked whine of pleasure Sherlock gave before the boy dropped his head in perfect submission and Alan didn’t need telling twice, he knew that gesture for what it was. One beat of his racing heart and Riddick’s open mouth was on Sherlock’s skin, lips pushing the edges of the bite together as he sucked that swollen flesh into his mouth. Oh God that taste! Alan knew he was sucking harder and harder, lips pulling at the flesh so hard each weeping fang mark was opening but he couldn’t stop now Sherlock’s hot, silken lymph was flooding his mouth and running wet down his throat.

“Alan…!” Sherlock cried out, his voice shaken with panicked, uncontrollable arousal before he dropped his panting face down, opened his own soft pink lipped mouth against Alan’s hard immovable bicep and bit down hard! The pain was sudden and sharp. It lanced through Alan’s arm and Sherlock bit down just as hard again to be sure even as Alan’s hot salty blood spilled down over his pink lips. “DON’T!”

“Fuck! “Alan’s stunned voice was his own again abruptly not the rough, heedless tone of Alpha desire and when Sherlock frantically pulled to get free this time Alan grabbed him by both thin shoulders and practically threw him away across the bed as he drove himself off the other side and stood shaking with need , panting as though he’d just ran a sprint. Sherlock span around ready to run or try and fight but Alan had clapped both hands over his mouth and nose and was backing away. He looked devastated, his eyes were almost afraid.  
Sherlock could see the bloody, oozing imprint of his own teeth in Alan’s arm and he stayed very still, gasping open mouthed as his own surge of hormones hit, wetness soaking the sheet under him as his body cramped and opened. Slick was everywhere beneath him on the bed.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Alan reeled from that saturated scent, he was hard, painfully achingly fully fucking erect and knotted, his foreskin pulled back over his head, ready to knot and fuck, as he staggered for the open door. He wanted to catch the boy and suck mouthful after fanged mouthful of bare skin along his beautiful bare body before he sank his cock into him…Riddick was coming hard as he grabbed hold of the door and Sherlock reacted to that Alpha heavy acrid semen smell with an arch of his body as he slid down onto the bed, his slim cock hard and outlined clearly in his soaking pj bottoms.

There was a clanging bang that echoed through the small cabin as Alan finally got the door shut and Sherlock could hear Alan swearing “Fuck! FUCK!” repeatedly as he fumbled with the locks, clumsy and blinded by the urge to take and claim and bite!  
“FUCK!” Then Alan’s hand appeared at the plate sized hole he had cut into the bottom of the door and Sherlock saw him throw the keys carelessly over the floor, sealing the Omega in where he couldn’t take him, where he wouldn’t claim and bite and thrust into him! Alan sank down shaking, back to the door and beat the back of his skull against it’s cold, white painted metal panels so he couldn’t beg the boy to let him back inside. His cock already hard again as he shoved down his come covered tracksuit bottoms and fisted it furiously again and again and again as Sherlock cried out and did the same inside the locked room and time slowed to just the pulsing throb of come inching up Alan’s hard cock and spilling over his hands and Sherlock’s agonised ecstatic cries of need driven pleasure.


	16. Childhood Does Not Forget You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CAM has a father to son chat...........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments you have left me on this update already... I appreciate every last one.

Charles Magnussen was sat on one of the two champagne coloured couches in the sitting room of his new penthouse flat overlooking Hyde Park, it was late and Charles had a pile of paperwork open and spread out over the empty couch cushions next to him.The four large black lamps were lit.  
Charles looked up as his new butler approached and bowed his head. “Miss Vesterguaard is here for your weekly meeting Mr Magnussen.”  
The Alpha replaced the cap on his Mont Blanc fountain pen and nodded. “Very well, show her in Zaman.”  
Charles poured himself a cognac and stood at the huge wall sized window looking out across the darkened acres of Hyde Park below. He noticed the reflection of the tall, blonde Alpha woman approaching in the glass and turned with a polite smile. “Miss Vesterguaard, please sit down.”  
“Thank you Mr Magnussen.” The woman sat primly one of the rooms four armchairs facing the couch Magnussen had been working on and folded her white gloved hands neatly upon her uniformed lap. Magnussen’s gaze as it travelled over her was as flat and blank as a sharks.

“Mr Magnussen, when I accepted this position as Aleksander’s governess, I had a number of concerns regarding his age, as you are aware he is several years younger than the children I am generally governess too.” Charles nodded, his eyes appraising the woman’s stiff, unhappy demeanour before she spoke. “I was also aware that I was to replace a group of nannies who had cared for your son since he was one and that Aleksander’s daily routine had been disrupted since the move to London and required re-establishing. I expected some period of adjustment…however I am disappointed to have to inform you that Aleksander’s problematic behaviour is now impacting on both the nursery and the school room ….”  
“However long the previous staff caring for my son had done so they are merely employees and Aleksander needs to understand the distinction. I will speak with him.” Miss Vesterguaard gave a frigid smile. “Have you other concerns you wish to discuss?”  
“In my previous positions as governess I was not accustomed to dealing with children who require the levels of personal care Aleksander demands.”  
Magnussen’s mouth straightened disapprovingly. “My son is an extremely intelligent child and well in advance of his peers. In all educational and developmental tests, he performs at a level comparable with a child two years and nine months older than his actual age.”

“That is very clear upon meeting him Mr Magnussen, Aleksander is a remarkably intelligent boy educationally and very articulate, his Danish and English are both fluent and beautifully spoken.”  
“However?” Magnussen’s cold stare was fixed.  
“Emotionally Aleksander is …. fragile. He screams when told to go to bed and continues for several hours every night, on occasion he becomes so distressed from this manipulative crying he vomits. He bed wets. I have found him playing with water in the bathroom on more than one occasion. When corrected and sent to his room he repeatedly tries to open the door and has to be locked inside until the allotted time is complete.”  
“I see, thank you for being so forthright.”  
“if you would permit me to punish his bad behaviour physically I feel sure I can make progress.”  
Something in Magnussen’s glacial blue eyes gave her pause and she stopped speaking. Magnussen’s voice was clipped as he replied. “My son is not an Omega to be corrected with a beating! If he requires chastisement I shall deal with it myself every evening if you would be so good as to provide me with a daily list of his misdemeanours? “

“I am sorry Mr Magussen but I cannot carry on unless I am permitted to correct the child as is needed. “  
Charles tone was disinterested and formal. “Then you cannot carry on and may consider yourself dismissed without notice. You may pack and leave at once, agency staff will be here within the hour to replace you.”  
“Mr Magnussen, young children require continuity of care and discipline, without it they become distressed and prone to develop behavioural problems. Despite his intelligence Aleksander is very young to be separated from an Omega mother in my professional opinion ….”  
“Your opinion no longer holds any validity or value here.” Magnussen rose and rang for his butler who appeared instantly. “Zaman, Miss Vesterguaard is dismissed from my employ. Kindly have one of the maids awaken Aleksander and remove him to my personal sitting room until Miss Vesterguaard has been escorted from the penthouse. “  
Magnussen cast an unfriendly eye over the woman and his voice was aristocratic and belittling as she stood stiffly up. “You would do well to abide by the confidentiality clause you signed, should you break it to any degree however insignificant, you will discover the meaning of the word unemployable. My influence is considerable.”

 

Two hours later Charles opened the doors to his private sitting room. The room was dark and intimate, its gun metal colours and masculine dark colours would have made it austere but the huge rectangular crystal ceiling light and several large lamps, the neutral couches with their rich tactile fabrics and the huge white display cabinet that took over one whole wall made for a space that was opulent and rich while still being distinctly Alpha in design. As Charles entered he nodded to the uniformed maid who had been stood silently by the wall and she left without a word.

“Fader!” Aleksander slid happily from one of the huge soft couches, leaving his royal blue dressing gown behind him and got to his feet. Magnussen stood the child between his legs and held both his arms, keeping him still and focused. He looked into his son’s bright blue eyes as he spoke.  
“Miss Vesterguaard has been dismissed. She will be replaced.”  
The child frowned, puzzled. “Who will tell me when it’s time to go to bed and turn out my light?”  
“A night nanny will do that for tonight, she will be here shortly and tomorrow I will interview someone new to replace Miss Vesterguaard.”  
Aleksander looked down uncertainly, it was only for a second but nothing escaped Magnussen’s eye. Magnussen raised an eyebrow.  
“She called me a baby because my bed was wet, I’m not a baby am I Fader?”  
“You are not; you are my son and your bloodline is superior to her own.”  
“I didn’t like her Fader, she never smiled.”  
Magnussen gave a low amused laugh. “With her horse face she had little to smile about.”  
“Fader!” Aleksander sounded delighted but then fell silent.

“I try not to wet the bed but my room is all shadows and she said I was too old to need a night light. Can I have my night light back now she’s gone?”  
“Aleksander….” Magnussen’s tone was stern. “You are an Alpha of the Elite, fear of the dark and tears are suitable only in an Omega.”  
“I’m sorry Fader, “the child was red with shame.  
“Control your imagination, it is inappropriate. I expect you to conquer this irrational fear.”  
“Yes Fader.... Fader, Miss Vesterguaard says I have no mother and that’s why I wet the bed, but I do have a mother don’t I?”  
“You do, a very beautiful one.”  
Aleksander pulled a face. “I never see him anymore. Doesn’t he like me?”  
Magnussen chose to ignore the child's second question. “Would you like to do that? Would you like to see him again as you did?”  
The child nodded, “Yes Fader, but I heard the guard say he went away?”

“Do you remember what I told you about Sherlock? That mine was the seed that made you who you are but that Sherlock was the vessel inside which you grew?”  
“Yes Fader, inside his womb?”  
“You listen well..... Sherlock had another baby growing inside his womb, it would have been a brother or perhaps a sister for you so you could be a big brother but Sherlock didn’t want the baby to be born so he took medicine that stopped the baby’s heart beating. The little baby died.” Magnussen stroked his son’s hair. Aleksander’s eyes were huge and tearful. “I was very angry and that scared Sherlock so he is hiding but I am looking for him to bring him back home.”  
“Aren’t you angry with him anymore Fader? Why didn’t he want a baby? I could have played games with a baby and taught him how to read.”  
“You could have done all that and more. You would have been a good brother, the very best . Remember what I have always told you about Omega, they are weak and they are easily led. Sherlock is alluring and another Alpha saw that and wanted him for himself.”  
“He can't’ have him!” Aleksander was red faced and shouting. “You said Sherlock is yours! That’s stealing!”  
“ A thief does not care who owns what he takes and Sherlock is very beautiful is he not? Many Alpha would wish he belonged to them and not here with us. “

Aleksander nodded miserably, his little face still flushed and tearful with indignant temper. “He smells like birthday cake and he said he loves me and he told me stories about his puppy, it was red.“  
“When we Danish were Viking raiders, a thief would lose his hand; the other warriors would cut it off with an axe to teach him that he should never touch what he does not own.”  
“Is that what you will do to punish the Alpha who stole Sherlock Fader?”  
Magnussen’s smile was chilling. “For taking Sherlock away from us? Much worse. I have not found him yet but when I do, and I will, he will pay for what he has done.”  
Magnussen lifted his son and carried him over to the huge illuminated, white shelved display cabinet at the end of the room. “This statue is from China, from the tomb of an emperor of the Ming dynasty, it is worth more than many earn in a lifetime. It is unique and flawless. I keep it separate from every other possession, all by itself in a case that is worthy of its beauty…. I treasure it.” Aleksander stared with wide eyes. “Yet this is not the possession I own that gave me the most pleasure…Sherlock is that, he is irreplaceable and when I find him I think he should have a special safe place to live in like this statue carved from ivory. We will make sure his beauty stays hidden so that no thief will ever covert him again.”

Aleksander nodded.” When he comes back can I hug him as much as I like? “  
“You can, although he has done wrong and you know what has to happen when people do wrong things?”  
“They have to be punished Fader.”  
“Very good.”  
Aleksander’s smile was huge and happy and Magnussen smiled back, although his eyes were unengaged and harsh.  
“How will you find Sherlock if he is hiding?”  
“ I know he will come here to London soon…Sherlock has a brother, a very greedy man , who doesn’t want us to see him anymore.”  
“But Sherlock is your Omega! He belongs to us!”  
“He does but people who don’t want him to be here with us have told him so many lies Sherlock does not know who he can trust. His brother will keep him from us if he can and make it impossible for Sherlock to come home. They think they can win the fight but we know better don’t we? “  
Aleksander was listening, concentrating on every word, his round face innocent and naïve. " Nobody can beat you Fader!"

“Sherlock gave birth to you. You grew inside his body in his womb as a chick grows in an egg. So whatever he does he loves you very much and he wants you to love him back…. but love is earned is it not? If you do bad things do you deserve to be loved as much as if you do good things?”  
Aleksander shook his head.  
“Sherlock must prove he is sorry for all the bad choices he has made and you are the very best person to teach him that lesson Aleksander. Your love is a special gift and must be earnt.”  
“How Fader?” The child yawned a huge yawn.  
“We can talk about that another time..... you are tired and your new nanny is here. Shall we go and meet her? You must behave well , remember you are an Alpha of the Elite and shake her hand as I taught you. I expect you to make me proud and I know you will.”

Magnussen took his son’s hand and led him towards the nursery.  
“When Sherlock comes back will you beat him Fader?”  
Magnussen lifted his son. “I could, I am strong and he is weak but I think he will learn much faster how not to behave if you punish him. “

Aleksander leant his head against Charles as his father opened the nursery door. “I don’t think I can beat him Fader.”  
“There are many ways to hurt somebody. Sometimes only a word will do." Charles stood his son down." Now it’s time to meet your nanny. I’m sure she looks less like a horse than Miss Vesterguaard.”  
Aleksander was giggling innocently as the door opened, but above his head Charles face was calculating and severe.


	17. Use Somebody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John risks his life and more.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Danish words are translated by John a few lines down so I haven't provided my usual translation here. Hope that's ok?

Saul Jefferson pulled into an empty parking space and turned off the engine, before getting out and crossing the road to walk down towards the street corner he’d arranged to meet John Watson on. It was a dark, atmospheric night and Saul’s breath misted in the cold air as he stepped up on the kerb between a parked white van and a huge wheelie bin. There was a low whistle from just behind him and the journalist turned his head cautiously, staring down the street past its parked cars, trying to see who was there. Like all investigative journalists Saul knew he had enemies….yardie gangs, drug lords, criminals with a festering grudge ….  
“Looking jumpy there Saul.” John’s wryly amused voice came from the darkest shadows of a garden to Saul’s right.  
“Shit John, you could have been anyone!” Saul’s relief was transparent and he kept his voice low as he spoke. He could see the other Alpha now he knew there was someone there, stood motionless in the black shadows under the scaffolding frame that covered the front of the empty house under renovation.  
John’s wide warm grin was a quick flash of reassurance in the dark, and his tone was confidently flirtatious. “Expecting someone else were you? “  
Saul felt the same low simmer of sexual attraction he’d felt around the other Alpha last time they’d met in Regents Park. “You know how it is John; trained assassins on every street.”  
John was stood in front of Saul on the empty pavement, his clear brown amused eyes crinkled at the corners as he ran his open gaze slowly over Saul’s tanned face and licked his lips slowly. “Lucky I’m here then; wouldn’t want to find you being …. assassinated down some dark alley.”  
John’s tone suggested myriad other possibilities involving alley ways and walls. Damn it! Saul felt his cock give a twitch that told him how interested it was, as if he didn’t already know. The slow simmer of arousal in his groin threatened to become a burning conflagration torching his whole body if he didn’t keep control. Saul searched his mind for anything to say that wasn’t …Hell yeah, let’s go find an alley!

“How’s the shoulder injury and the thigh?” Saul dragged his focus back.  
John shrugged nonchalantly. “Shoulder’s as good as it’ll get” He gave a wicked smile. “Legs still here as you can see.” He tapped a tanned, practical hand to the solid muscle of his thigh through his dark jeans and Saul found his eyes drawn to the athletic shape of the muscle. He took a deep breath and found himself wondering if John had any idea of how attractive he was as he flipped up the collar of his black waxed jacket and led the way along the silent street with its curtained windows and empty shop fronts.  
A misty rain had started to fall and Saul saw wet silver points of light glint in John’s short blonde hair as he passed under the street lights and stopped outside an empty fish and chip shop.  
John looked up at the still dark windows above the shop front before pressing his thumb to the door buzzer in two short staccato bursts, he waited a minute, checking the time on his wristwatch then leant his thumb on the buzzer and left it ring. At the back of the empty shop Saul saw a door open and a shaft of yellow light.

“There’s someone in there John.”  
“It’s the who bothers me…. some things not right. “John threw the words over his shoulder quietly and Saul heard a low crack and realised John had already forced the lock. There was a huge pile of old junk mail just behind the door and John pushed it aside with his foot as he forced the door open, inside silver deep fat fryers ran along one side of the shop and there was a dirty white counter top covered in spilt drinking straws. Behind the dirty counter the old chalkboard menu still proclaimed haddock to be the fish of the day. Under Saul’s feet the blue tiled floor felt slippery and greasy.  
“Behind me....not a word.” John’s voice was so low only Saul would have heard it as they neared the internal door that had been opened just after John rang the buzzer. John jabbed his thumb to one side of the door and Saul stood where John had gestured without a word being said. Saul could just see through the open door to a dead spider plant hanging in its rattan basket on the garish salmon pink wall.

John reached behind him and Saul saw the handgun in John’s right hand as he lifted up an old mop, left propped in its bucket against the wall to his left. Saul watched as John silently laid it flat on the dirty tiled floor and pushed it forward with the side of his shoe using the mop head to lever the door open further.  
Instantly shots rang out and Saul saw the wooden door splinter. In that instant John’s own shot exploded the one hanging light bulb that was illuminating the hallway clearly for whoever was there taking shots at them. John was crouched low and moving fast, he was through the door and firing , shot after shot punctured the dark and Saul heard a shout followed by a low agonised groan and then silence. Saul could hear someone moving through the rooms , opening and shutting doors then John’s calm, sure voice called out.  
“It’s clear Saul, come in.”  
Saul stepped carefully into the narrow hallway, his shoes crunching on the shattered glass of the light fitting John had shot out and crushing the soil from the broken plant pot into the red textured carpet. There was an overwhelming smell of used cooking oil and Saul saw a yellow plastic barrel had been shot and was leaking out over the carpet. John had turned on the light in the room he was in and at the end of the corridor Saul saw a man slumped heavily to one side, the wall behind him splattered with blood and brain matter from his broken skull. There was another body sprawled half in and half out of the doorway, in a dark pool of blood, the weapon already kicked away from him by John on his way past. Saul stepped over the body fastidiously avoiding the spreading bloody gore.

Inside the room John was crouched on the filthy floor checking the vital signs of a third man in his late thirties whose long dread locks were matted with blood. The room smelt of shit. “He’s still alive… just. We need to get the Hell out of here!” John had shoved his sig down the back of his jeans as he spoke and Saul hesitated, eyes on the gun. John fixed him with a blunt stare, evaluating his nervous state in one glance. His voice was matter of fact as he spoke again; used to issuing orders and dealing with danger. “Saul, snap out of it. Grab his legs. Let’s go.”  
Saul staggered as he lifted his half of the heavily built man, noticing as he did that both of his ankles had been bound with silver duct tape just above his new Yeezy trainers.  
John didn’t seem to need to compensate for his shoulder wound, he managed to move quietly and efficiently despite the awkward dead weight they were carrying and Saul struggled to move as fast as John through the darkened empty rooms but suddenly they were outside in a tiny courtyard with high razor wire topped walls and several huge green wheelie bins. John barely hesitated moving fast towards the open gate, Saul dragged back, hissing breathlessly… “Wait they could still be there?”  
“Long gone,” John didn’t even sound out of breath. “Don’t you hear the getaway car?”  
Saul heard it then, the sound of a car driven at speed as it rounded a far corner. His fingers dug into the ankles he was gripping as he felt his grasp on the man’s heavy body begin to slip.  
“Put him down.” John jerked his head towards the wall.  
“It’s okay, I can carry him.” Saul gasped even though his muscles burned.  
“He’s dead…. may as well drop him down.” John’s voice was emotionless as they laid the body back in the shadows out of the way. Saul saw John search the dead man’s pockets before he passed his palm over the unseeing blank eyes, pressing them closed and stood up, brusque and efficient.  
Saul had seen dead bodies before in the war zone of the middle east but none had still been warm , alive and breathing when he’d first come across them, this murder felt personal, viscerally so; had John walked through that door he would have been a dead man and it would have been his brains and his blood soaking into that filthy carpet.

“This way. No talking.” John led the way down the alley and across two empty streets until they neared the litter strewn high street, it was brightly lit up even at this late hour when all the pubs had called last orders. Just before they stepped out into the street lights John turned and let his steady gaze run over Saul’s body from head to toe before John wiped his own blood stained hands on his dark shirt and zipped his jacket up to hide the incriminating stains , shoving both hands deep into his jeans pockets. “You’d best hail the cab. I look like I just killed someone. “ The dry joke hung in the air.  
Saul managed to stop the first empty cab that came along, yelling “Taxi!” in a voice he didn’t even recognise as his own. As soon as they were inside Saul gave his own address “Welbeck Street “and slumped back against the seat. John kept his own face turned away so the cabbie didn’t get a good clear look at him. Saul saw John tapping away at his mobile phone before shoving it carelessly back into his jacket pocket. The eerie dark streets of the city at night unsettled Saul and he pulled out his own mobile phone and thumbed through text after text blindly without seeing the content until he heard John say “Stop here.”  
The cab pulled away leaving Saul fumbling to fit his key into the Yale lock of his front door, his hand shaking until John reached over and took the keys from Saul, opening the door and guiding Saul inside his own flat with a steady hand on his elbow. Saul found himself sat on the couch in his modern open plan room as John flicked on lights and opened kitchen cupboard after cupboard, looking for tea bags before finally spotting the new chrome Gaggia coffee maker on the worktop.

“Typical, nobody has bloody tea bags and a pot any more.” John was crouched down in front of Saul with a glass of brandy. Saul took a huge gulp and realised his hands were shaking violently.” Steady, take your time.” John’s voice was reassuringly calm as were his dependable brown eyes.Saul was all too aware of the other man’s blood stained fingers checking his pulse. “That’s not the first time you’ve been shot at was it?” Saul heard the certainty in John’s voice ; he wasn’t asking for confirmation, he’d already guessed enough to be sure.  
“No…my family is South African, we owned a vineyard at the foot of Table Mountain. Good fertile land. “ Saul watched the alcohol leap in the glass , his hand shaking with an abrupt jolting tremor. John’s calming touch moved to cup Saul’s wrist. “There was a home invasion , my father, uncle , our old dog ….all shot. My father lived , my uncle didn’t.  
John didn’t look away , his deep brown eyes , kind and steady. “I’m sorry Saul. I had no idea this would be anything more than a routine meet or I’d never have risked your safety.” John’s tanned practical hand felt like an anchor.  
“What happened John . What went wrong back there?” Saul needed to know why three men had died.

John released Saul’s wrist and sat back on his heels , his honest eyes met Saul’s directly, hiding nothing. “The man I bought you to meet…Argon….was a “purveyor” of Omega escorts. None over the age of 18”  
“A pimp?” Saul said bluntly.  
“A pimp,” John agreed without much judgement. “He ran a stable , as he called it, of Omega boys. Models from Eastern Europe who wanted an older sugar daddy, Uni students who needed income to finish their studies , party boys who’d ran up debts they couldn’t pay snorting coke.”  
“Sounds like a charming bastard…I’m almost pleased I didn’t get to meet him while he was alive now.”  
John gave one of his wide , darkly amused grins, then the smile disappeared as he reached into his jacket, into the inside pocket and pulled out a white envelope. Saul opened it and saw a photo of a boy with dark black curls and small , sharp angular features, he looked about 14. “Five years ago he supplied several Omega escorts supposedly for a week long party abroad a super yacht with four Elite Alpha. All expense paid in full up front , with a sweetener to make sure nobody talked, Private jets and a fleet of cars to take and collect the boys who were chosen on the basis of “audition” movies, nobody met face to face. One of the boys …. that sixteen year boy, whose name nobody even bloody remembers, who looks like a child….never got off the yacht once it docked at Cannes. Argon made a fuss, he was told in no uncertain terms to shut up and forget the boy or he’d be silenced permanently. The boy never came home , he never left that yacht alive.”  
“Jesus!” Saul swore softly , he could see now why John had said this was a story he’d want to cover.  
“Tonight was the culmination of thirteen months work, Argon claimed to have paperwork proving the Omega was paid for and delivered as agreed , proving just who was abroad that yacht when it left port.” Saul heard the tight , despondent anger in the other Alpha’s voice. “The yacht belonged to a Saudi Prince, Nayef El Rashid , among the party were Count Alexei Alayev and Charles Magnussen. Argon had proof the Omega who vanished had been selected for Magnussen himself to enjoy, he claimed to know the boy was killed during an orgy … breath play that went wrong, badly wrong. The body was disposed of out at sea.”

“Shit!” Saul’s face showed how appalled he was . “The proof John , do you have it? Was it on the body?”  
John reached into his jacket again and pulled out a folded piece of paper with a single line of text in Danish…..ambition og haevn er altid sulten. Der ikke er plads ved bordet for dig.  
“What’s it mean?” Saul knew it was a Nordic language.  
“ Googled it in the cab."John grinned broadly."The first part is a Danish proverb….ambition and revenge are always hungry….. the second part says ….there is no place at the table for you.”  
“It’s a threat? “ Saul stared at the words.  
“It’s a threat ,” John agreed.  
“From Charles Magnussen? The Danish words, it has to be him John. He’s threatening you!”  
“ Either that or he forgot to invite me to his next dinner party ….” John’s voice was unimpressed. “ I guess I rattled his chain.” The idea seemed to please John if the devil may care smile Saul was staring at was any clear indicator .  
“Fuck John! Someone tried to kill you tonight and that bastard Magnussen was behind it?”

Saul lent forward and caught at the cold wet sleeve of John’s blood soaked jacket. His fingers held hard, his eyes holding John’s level, aware stare. “Stay here tonight John. No strings. Just stay? “ He knew what he was offering, he knew what he was asking and he knew what he wanted.  
John’s dark dangerous eyes dipped down to Saul’s throat with its visible rapid pulse and flickered back to the other Alpha’s tanned , close shaven face before he stood up. Saul’s throat felt constricted , lust blocking it so hard he could barely breathe as John’s compact hand with its capable fingers twisted round Saul’s tie and tugged him up. John’s other hand slid into the waistband of Saul’s suit trousers and pulled the other Alpha in close as their mouths crashed together hard and passionate, tongues fighting until John growled and bit at Saul’s jaw , sucking hard along that bone line as Saul ceded to his dominance and the feel of that thick, brutally hard cock he could feel pressing against his own thigh. John gave a push and Saul allowed it and went back and down onto the couch with John on top of him, his strong body thrusting hard against the swelling of Saul’s own cock and his mouth sucking and releasing , bruising Saul’s neck as he arched and met every thrust with his own. Tearing open clothing and delving inside with hard strong , desperate fingers as need met brutal need.


	18. Lay Where You're Laying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riddick and Sherlock deal with the aftermath of the Omega's heat .  
> 

Riddick stood staring out of the window, water running into the glass he’d placed into the sink to fill ; overflowing without him noticing. It was dawn and behind the sparse fir trees the winter sky was a colourless pale grey, lit just above the tree tops with a pure white light that promised heavy snow. He finally turned off the running tap and drank the whole glass of pure, cold water as droplets from the bottom of the wet glass dripped onto the floor by his bare feet.  
Sherlock’s glass still sat unwashed next to the sink and Riddick wanted to touch his lips to its rim, where Sherlock’s beautiful pink mouth had been days before…. Alan’s hands grasped at the edge of the sink as his cock gave another spasm and he lowered his head and groaned at the dull ache. His cock had never been so fucking painful- without being compressed inside an Omega’s…. Sherlock’s…. tight body; Alan’s knot had swollen to an agonising bulge. Every erection uncomfortable, then painful, then sheer, bloody increasing agony as his skin distended, his shaft swelled and his blood pooled without release. Alan lowered his head, skull aching like it was split where he’d slammed the back of his head against the locked door, his hand bruised from where he’d pounded his clenched fist against the cold metal, desperate for Sherlock to fucking open it and let him inside.  
Alan’s stomach muscles tightened sickly as he recalled what he’d said…. pleading with Sherlock through that locked door, voice raw with a pain that was driving him demented as it rose and peaked. Every time he’d grab his cock and fist it over and over, even when he did; it did nothing to relieve him. Coming endlessly again and again, sweating and swearing…. his tracksuit bottoms pushed down, his leaking shaft so bruised his own hand made his skin feel like shards of glass were blocking his cock and every ejaculation felt like it was ripping him apart inside.

The room looked like a bomb had hit it. Wet towels Alan had soaked in cold water to try and ease that crippling agony lay forgotten all over the floor, empty glasses and half eaten plates of food on the worktop and the arm of the couch, a empty bottle of Finlandia vodka and an spilt bottle of paracetamol stood by the sink. Come splattered the floor boards outside the bedroom door in a wide arc.  
It was all a bloody mess …. not least the things he’d said, the begging words spilling out as he pressed his face to the metal door – open the door lad…. let me in …. I won’t hurt you…. just open the door…. Sherlock…. please lad, let me have you… Christ you smell so good!

Alan winced away from that memory of his voice and scrubbed a hand over his face. Bloody Hell, his stubble felt like it was edging towards beard. Five days without a shave, definitely not his best look. Alan cast a glance towards the locked bedroom door, he couldn’t hear Sherlock moving about and the Omega had stopped crying out hours ago. Alan’s cock gave another painful pulsing throb, it ached all along the shaft and right around the base like an overtight band and Alan pulled his mind away from remembering Sherlock’s delirious, pure cries of shattered pleasure. The last thing he wanted was to get hard again.

“Stay down you bastard!” Riddick swore at his own cock as he hit the shower, pulling a face at the discomfort as the water hit his thick tender shaft. Fuck but that was sore! Alan scrubbed his hair and body with handfuls of mint shower gel, avoiding any contact with his cock; turning his face into the water and letting it cleanse his soiled skin. When he was done he felt drained, his muscles aching as they did after a good workout, as he wound the towel around his lean athletic hips and wiped the mirror clear of steam.  
Alan frowned at the sight of his drawn face …. great, he looked exactly like a man who’d spent days and nights wanking endlessly, without so much as a touch of the Omega he was smitten with for years and who smelt like he’d be the best fuck ever... if he wasn’t safe behind a bloody reinforced, immovable, metal door that Alan cursed the day he’d ever had the foresight to fit. No…. that wasn’t true, without the door he’d have forced himself into the room with Sherlock and what then? Pushed himself into the Omega's bed and body....and what if he didn’t want Alan the same way that Alan knew he wanted Sherlock? Alan couldn’t have stomached himself if he’d done that to the lad. There’d been a chance …Alan knew it ….as he’d heard Sherlock’s shaken cries of frantic self-pleasure that the lad would have let himself be fucked through his heat; but that wasn’t ever going to be enough, Riddick wanted more, and after…. what then? Would Sherlock have hated him for it? How would he look at Alan this morning, now the Alpha had spent hours battering on the door and masturbating outside it? Christ, what a disaster!  
“Not a rapist …. yeah? Not so bloody sure about that now are you Alan, you dumb Alpha bastard!" Riddick snarled at his reflection in the mirror. Mycroft bloody Holmes had almost been right. That was a hard truth to swallow.

Alan filled both broad palms with warm water and splashed his face before spreading a decent blob of shaving foam over his stubbled jaw and tilting his neck this way and that as he shaved. He was pretty impressed he only cut himself badly twice, his hands were that shaky. After he looked more like himself, he just didn’t feel like it…he felt like a threat to the boy he loved!  
Riddick walked through to the main living room, wrinkling his nose at the stale smell of his own semen in the air, as he threw wide a window despite the freezing temperature outside. He stood by the couch and dropped his wet towel, grabbing clean boxers, an Under Armour fitted Nike t-shirt, grey socks and an old, much washed pair of tracksuit bottoms, his cock was way too tender for jeans. Alan pulled on a grey zipped hoodie before piling up the dirty plates, picking up the wet towels and making a start on clearing up. As he washed up he heard a muffled sound from inside the locked bedroom and glanced towards the white door. He could see daylight underneath it, the lad must have opened the shutters, maybe the window as well.  
Awkward shame twisted itself into a knot in his gut as he got a wet cloth and bleach and scrubbed the come splattered floorboards and wall outside the bedroom door. After he'd cleaned up he took two clean towels, a pair of pj bottoms, one of his old t-shirts and some socks into the bathroom and left them folded on top of the shower cubicle door for Sherlock to find.

Alan checked the floor outside the locked door to see if Sherlock had pushed the keys back to Alan’s side of the locked door so the Alpha could open the locks, but the boy hadn’t. Alan didn’t blame him, the Omega probably thought Alan couldn’t be trusted anymore.  
Maybe it would be better if he gave the boy some space. Alan touched the palm of his wide hand to the dented metal of the door. “Sherlock? I’m going to stay outside till you’ve showered. I left things in the bathroom for you. Towels, clothes. I won’t….” Alan heard his voice falter….” I won’t hurt you lad, I promise.”

Alan knew the Omega was standing just the other side of the closed door, he could taste the lingering scent of the boy’s slick covered skin on the roof of his mouth. Alan swallowed. He heard light footsteps crossing the bedroom floor and things being moved as Sherlock searched for the keys and Alan crouched down as Sherlock’s long elegant fingers pushed the keys out through the hole Alan had cut in the bottom of the door. The boy's hand withdrew fast as Alan reached to take the keys up.  
Aye, definitely afraid of him …. Alan hated himself as he unlocked the padlocks, leaving just the main door lock, the key of which was Sherlock’s side of the locked door. “I’ll be outside.” Alan said stiffly. He closed the front door noisily so the boy could hear him leave and deliberately stood in easy view, his back turned to the kitchen window so Sherlock could see where he was without needing to look fearfully for him. Alan wanted the Omega to see he’d kept his word. When Riddick heard the door open he didn’t turn his head, it didn’t feel right for him to see Sherlock so soon after his heat when they hadn’t shared it. It felt like an intimacy he hadn’t earnt.  
Alan closed his eyes and thought back to the few heats he’d shared with Billy, the handful of times they’d had the privacy of an empty house or the money to get a heat suite in a bed and breakfast. The blurred lust, the endless shuddering cries, Alan’s slamming thrusts, the slick sucking all-consuming heat, Billy’s arms wrapping around his neck, his thighs pulling at Alan’s body as Alan’s hands in his hair kept the back of Billy’s head from banging against the wall.  
Alan sank down, back against the wooden, overlapped boards of the house and clenched both fists hard in his damp hair. He felt like tearing his hair out. He could have hurt Sherlock! Sweet, soft, breakable Sherlock who was just beginning to trust him! Alan hated himself!

 

Sherlock made sure the bathroom door was locked and pulled the chair over, wedging it under the handle just in case. It wouldn’t keep an Alpha out, he knew that. Turning on the water Sherlock stood under the spray weakly leaning against the tiled wall, relying on it to keep him upright and steady, his legs felt like he hadn’t walked in months. Sherlock filled his hands with palm full after palm full of shower gel until he’d used the whole bottle scrubbing his skin clean over and over.  
As he wrapped himself in the towel Alan had left him Sherlock saw Riddick’s shaving blade was still on the small shelf above the sink. He’d left the cap off the toothpaste too and Sherlock touched his forefinger to the wet bristles of Alan’s toothbrush.  
God…. Alan had begged, the pain in his torn ragged voice unhidden and Sherlock hadn’t opened the door! After every risk Alan had taken and everything the Alpha had lost to keep him safe; Sherlock had left him to bang desperately on the door while Sherlock forced his own body full of slick filled fingers like the whore Charles had always called him in heat.

Shit! He’d bitten Alan! Sherlock knew he had …. he’d sunk his teeth deep into the hard, immovable muscle of the Alpha’s bicep like some feral animal.  
What Omega did that to an Alpha! Sherlock shut his eyes, sick of the sight of his own face, with its angled bone structure and guilty blue eyes.  
He could have let Alan in…if he was a normal Omega, he would have let him in…..Alan had done everything right, he’d cared for Sherlock, held him when the cramps hurt more than he could stand as Sherlock buried his face in Riddick’s taut stomach and muttered pained words in Danish.  
The panic had held him back, kept Sherlock still and crouched down; rocking in the furthest corner of the scent filled bedroom as Alan hammered at the door…. what if the Alan who came in was nobody Sherlock knew? What if he bit and choked and forced his way and didn’t care how much it hurt?

Sherlock pulled on the soft grey pj bottoms Alan had left for him and the baggy black, hopelessly big t-shirt that smelled like Alan’s skin still, no matter how many times Sherlock wore it. Even now the Alpha was still caring for him when Sherlock hadn’t even let him have a kiss. After everything Alan had done to show he cared Sherlock hadn’t even let him have what Magnussen had taken without any acts of kindness or care. No Omega was meant to be like this!  
The main living room was empty; Sherlock’s eyes saw every small detail. The damp patches on the floor where wet towels had lain for days, the empty bottle of vodka by the kitchen sink.   
The open window had blown away the last trace of Sherlock’s scented slick and Alan’s acrid semen…. but there was still the bleach wiped wall and floorboards outside the bedroom door. Sherlock remembered that; the sounds of Alan just the other side of the door frantically palming his shaft as he came, the heavy Alpha scent of it pulling Sherlock closer till he was stood the other side of the door, desperately touching his own slim cock…until Alan had groaned and said “Sherlock? “ like he knew the Omega was right there.

Sherlock couldn’t see Alan through the kitchen window until he leant up, both hands on the counter top and lifted himself up, then he saw him; sat on the wooden deck, head in his hands, shoulders slumped, he looked dejected. He didn’t turn around when Sherlock closed the window.  
Sherlock reached for the kettle and lit the gas camping stove under it, he put out mugs but couldn’t use the milk, it smelt sour and Sherlock was sure it had to be off.  
Black tea then…. even though he knew Riddick liked his drinks milky. When it was made Sherlock knocked on the glass window pane between Riddick and himself and Alan’s head span around, startled…. Sherlock knew then that he had been lost in thought. Riddick pushed himself to his feet, his eyes meeting Sherlock’s carefully as the Omega mouthed the words “tea?”. Alan nodded but his eyes looked away too soon. Sherlock felt uneasy to see that.

Sherlock had just put the mugs on the table when Riddick was there, kicking off his boots, amid a sudden pouring of cold air through the open door behind him. For a second Sherlock was suddenly very aware of the height and muscle of the Alpha’s body and how much stronger it was than his own slim, dancers body.  
Alan had shut the door and was pulling off his hoodie. “You made tea?”  
“Yes, but there’s no milk, it smelt bad?”  
“It would do, its days old.” Alan pulled out the chair and sat down, staring at his arms as he rested them on the table. He sounded flat and tense. Miserable.  
Sherlock could see the bloody, puffy imprint of his own teeth in Alan’s skin. He felt nauseous. What he’d done was something no Omega ever did...he'd bitten an Alpha. He couldn’t look away from the marks.

Alan spoke without raising his head. His voice was defeated as Sherlock had only heard it once before, that day in the car after Sherlock had yelled and fought and hurled a knotting dildo down the street. Sherlock froze in place, unable to ask Alan not to say the words he knew he was going to say...waiting for Alan to tell him he couldn't do this through another heat..  
“I’m…. sorry lad…. What I said …. I had no right to ask you to let me touch you…You were right not to open the door …. if you want to call your brother to come get you… I understand.”  
Sherlock’s mind wasn’t working as it should, it felt slow, clumsy, dull, unable to understand why Alan would say that! Why was Alan sorry? When he’d done nothing but ask for what any Elite Alpha would have taken. That made no sense, it had to be wrong. Sherlock said nothing, he felt confused, bewildered.

Alan seemed to steel himself to say more. Sherlock deduced him instinctively, without conscious thought. Thumb pressure on mug handle… guilt. Can’t look at me…. shame. Shoulders slumped … defeat. Keeping both hands where I can see them…. thinks I’m afraid of him. Breathing slower...doesn't want me to go even when he is saying it. Swallowed twice to clear his throat…. love.

“I’ll go get a phone, you can call your brother….” Alan’s voice was oddly subdued.  
“No.” The refusal was out before Sherlock could think of all the ways to say it better.  
“No?”Riddick was staring right at him now, stunned into mute silence.  
“No. I’m not going. “Sherlock said it again but Alan was still sat speechless and empty faced so Sherlock said it again and again. “No. No. No! I’m not…going anywhere.” Fear of everything unknown filled the Omega’s voice. Sherlock saw the exact second Riddick registered what he was saying so he stopped talking then and just watched the surprised understanding change Alan’s face. The fear of being sent away made Sherlock breathless.

Alan’s eyes held Sherlock’s, the Alpha still hadn’t moved, he remained still…stoic, unthreatening, calm…. as Sherlock fought to slow his own disordered erratic heartbeat. The Omega could see Riddick thinking it through, step by step, trying to reach a decision. The Alpha remained silent and conflicted. If Alan still wanted him gone Sherlock didn’t know what more he could do but he had to try.  
Sherlock pulled out the second chair and sat down, he had to show Alan he was ok. He needed Riddick to know that. It seemed very important. Alan’s bare tanned arm lay still on the table; he didn’t move it as Sherlock sat…. the Omega stared wordlessly at the bite he’d left behind. It was an insane thing to have done. “I shouldn’t have bitten you. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”  
Alan rubbed his palm over his mouth and chin. “That’s okay.”  
Sherlock wished he’d say more, was he still going to send him away?  
Riddick shook his head before he spoke. “There’s powdered milk in the cupboard behind me lad. Better than nothing.” Alan’s voice was rough with supressed emotion. Sherlock stood up to get it , glancing back over his shoulder he saw the Alpha was looking down again, the tanned nape of Alan’s neck looked oddly vulnerable.

Sherlock opened the cupboard and saw the jar instantly, although the tea would be cold by now and neither of them had drunk as much as a sip. Powdered milk? This had to be disgusting.  
Sherlock turned around without bothering with the jar of nasty looking cream powder. It wasn’t important anymore and this was…Sherlock’s head was spinning with thought after thought. Alan was sat with his back to Sherlock, quiet, steady and solid; a safe place. Sherlock needed to _do _something, to prove he could stay, that he wasn’t scared …. he took a quiet shaky breath in as he decided and stepped forward. Riddick gave a surprised oomph low in his throat, as Sherlock slid both arms over around the Alpha’s solid collar bones, hugging Alan with linked arms thrown around the Alpha’s shoulders from a place of relative' safety, stood behind the back of his chair. Riddick’s rigid shock lasted only a few seconds then he leant his head back against the Omega’s slim body, accepting the contact, craving the touch. Sherlock could smell fresh air and mint shampoo in Alan’s short, dark hair as Alan raised one warm, hand and cupped Sherlock’s elbow in his palm.__

____

Sherlock had only ever touched two unrelated Alpha of his own free will…. John and now Alan …. and he wasn’t sure if this was ok, or if it was enough to make a difference, as Alan’s thumb stroked the skin of Sherlock’s inner arm. Sherlock could almost feel the need vibrating through the Alpha’s muscled body. Magnussen would have had him pinned down by now, pulling at his clothes brusquely but Alan barely moved and when he did speak his words were ragged… “Come here to me lad.” Alan pulled gently at Sherlock’s elbow as he stood slowly up and turned around to face the Omega, Alan leant back, sitting on the very edge of the table, watching Sherlock’s shallow anxious breathing. “It’s ok.” Alan’s eyes were steady and Sherlock suddenly felt weak as Alan put a little forward pressure around the Omega’s elbow, encouraging the boy to take another step. Sherlock felt overwhelmed, he couldn’t meet Riddick’s devoted stare as the Alpha moved his hand , tracing up Sherlock’s arm to his shoulder and letting his thumb rub the side of the Omega’s neck. Sherlock took another breath, as Alan’s fingers curved around to reach the back of the Omega’s neck, tracing the delicate bones of the boy’s spine until he found the raised edges of Sherlock’s bite. “It’s alright … I’ve got you.” Riddick’s voice held that low besotted tone that only Billy and now Sherlock had ever got to hear. Sherlock wanted to put his face against Riddick’s chest and stay still and be silent and feel safe and hidden but he still had something he needed to do before that stroking, hypnotic pressure against his bond bite made him confused and helpless.

“Wait…” Sherlock said breathlessly and Alan’s fingers stopped still. Sherlock turned his head and pressed his soft, mouth to the bruised, sore teeth marks he’d left in Alan’s hard, curved bicep and Alan gave a low aroused groan.  
“Christ lad, what are you doing to me….!”

Sherlock’s intense blue gaze was unsteady as he straightened back up, feeling dizzy and dazed as Alan’s hand kept it's firm grasp at the back of his neck and held him still, fingers stroking with a rough tenderness.  
Alan took one sharp breath in and held it as he bent his head and sought and found Sherlock’s mouth finally. The first kiss a mere press of firm Alpha lips against softly parted pink ones. The second hesitant kiss longer as Sherlock let it happen. The third time, words muttered against the Omega’s open lips as Riddick’s mouth hovered just over Sherlock’s without touching….”Kiss me.... God lad, kiss me back” and this time, when Alan’s mouth closed the gap, Sherlock did……


	19. Gilded Chairs. and Hard Topics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets an invitation to morning tea Mycroft Holmes style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Danish translations are as follows.
> 
> John's threat from CAM is the same one quoted in Chapter 17...Ambition and revenge are always hungry. There is no place at the table for you.
> 
> Mycroft's threat from CAM  
> den der ville nyde ilden må bære sin røg......He who would enjoy the fire must bear its smoke.
> 
>  The German name of the LGBT group Regenbogen...means Rainbow

John had the strangest urge to laugh out loud as he followed one of Mycroft Holmes aides, dressed in the blandest, least memorable suit John had ever seen, into the Baroque splendour of the Oscar Wilde bar. Mature palms, a tall, ornate display of perfect pink roses, immaculate table linen, heavy lined drapes and gold, gilded plasterwork was everywhere John looked. The ceiling was a huge glass atrium, edged with golden fresco’s of cherubim.

Greg Lestrade gave John a welcoming smile, he was sat at a table, his Marks and Spencer rain coat thrown over an empty chair. He couldn’t hide his grin at John’s bemused expression.  
“What are we doing here Greg?” John slid into an empty, velvet covered chair and looked up at the frolicking cherubs of the fresco.  
“I know …. it’s all a bit Palace of Versailles but give him a chance John?”  
“Versailles? That or a French brothel!” John grinned back irrepressibly.  
“Been to many of those have you?” Greg asked with a short laugh.  
“You’d be surprised” John’s voice was naturally flirtatious without him even needing to try, Greg was used to it but he had seen the flushed reaction of way too many, men and women from all three secondary genders who weren’t. The Omega didn’t miss the flash of pure anarchic humour in John’s passionate brown eyes as he asked.....” Speaking of the Devil …where’s Mycroft hiding himself?”  
“Stood behind you ….” Mycroft’s Elite Old Etonian accent was as clearly pronounced as always. The Alpha was as immaculately presented as always and exuded a restrained, very English calm. “But, of course, you knew I was there before you spoke. The infinitesimal movement of your dominant hand rather revealed that.”  
“Course it did.” John said with an exaggerated wriggle of his fingers, his open disarming smile held no malice.

Mycroft pulled out a chair and nodded to the waiter who immediately began to supervise the serving of three individual pots of tea and various delicious looking flaky pastries. John’s tea looked oddly anaemic but he supposed it was meant to look like that.  
“So this is a morning cuppa Holmes style?” John gave a low whistle; but Greg knew John was unimpressed by money or status. “Nice and posh as all this is; I usually pick up some biscuits from Tesco Metro and grab a tea from the vending machine in the hospital canteen before my shift starts.”  
Mycroft looked so genuinely appalled that Greg almost laughed out loud. The Elite Alpha had poured himself the perfect cup of breakfast tea…. Kenyan with a pinch of Assam to ensure a balanced, yet robust flavour. Greg attempted to hide his latest source of interest in the Alpha by taking a mouthful of his own tea….so far Mycroft Holmes had ticked some fetish boxes Greg had never even known he had – auburn hair and faded freckles (tick) English upper class accent (tick) . He had impeccable manners , Greg knew his mother would have loved, she'd always been one for seeing the importance of that when she'd been alive.  
Greg hid his rueful smile and topped up his tea; Elite Alphas’ had never been his thing before ….  
When Greg looked up both John and Mycroft were looking at him and Greg wasn’t sure whether the resigned exasperation on John’s face; or the aware, faintly flattered realisation on Mycroft’s lean face was worse.

John frowned and took a sip of his tea….it was strangely, unpleasantly scented, like swallowing a mouthful of milky perfume. John just stopped himself from pulling a face. He added two sugars hoping it would help.  
“I don’t believe I have ever seen Earl Grey taken with milk and two sugars before.” Mycroft’s Elite accent could make the slightest faux pas sound absurdly infeasible.  
“Can’t see why not,” John said, forcing another perfumed and sickly sweet mouthful down. “It’s delicious.”  
Greg sighed. “ You ordered him that God awful tea on purpose ….get the man a decent brew Mycroft.”  
“ It’s merely an acquired taste .” Mycroft’s tight smile was the most amused John had ever seen him. All it took was a elegant movement of one well manicured hand and the waiter sprang into action. There was a fresh pot of regular tea in front of John within seconds.

“So….” John was saying. “I’ve found you a lawyer willing to take on Magnussen. You’ll need to go to Berlin to meet him. He won’t take the case unless you do. He is a friend of a friend of mine…. Austrian.”  
“Elite?”  
“Yes…Problem with that?” John was straight to the point.  
“Possibly,” Mycroft practically purred and Greg added (slightly smug arrogance) to his tick list of things he found sexy that he'd previously not realised were even a thing for him, with the exception of a well cut suit, which had always been something Greg found attractive.  


Mycroft looked John right in the eyes as he spoke. “Charles Magnussen has already appointed his legal representation, the top Elite Alpha law firm in London. “  
“That’s nice for him, “John said. “Well on our side we have the LGBT lawyer my mate Vic recommended we use. He specialises in Elite Omega cases for a free legal help group called Regenbogen. Aric Weber. He is thirty-seven, bonded, lives with his elderly mother and a whole lot of cats..... Vic’s boyfriend Kurt is going to come over later and help out where he can.”  
“That’s the same Kurt who has a drag act ? ” Greg asked ” I’ve spoken to him a few times John , when you were holed up at their place with your shoulder injury. Seemed like a nice guy.”  
“Yeah he is.”  
To Mycroft’s eternal credit he barely blinked. “If all else fails at least we can give a rousing rendition of Somewhere Over The Rainbow. ”  
John laughed spontaneously. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”  
“Quite.... though Sherlock would love it.”

“Aric may not be money motivated but he is hungry for a win, has a quick mind and sees all the angles before they come up. Abrasive ….but that can be a good thing.”  
Mycroft nodded. “He’ll need to be. Thank you John. The assistance has been most welcome. I will fly out and meet him as soon as it can be arranged with special forces.” Mycroft's voice was prosaic. “You’ll be aware of the recent coverage of course? I don’t believe it to be coincidental.”  
Greg cut through all Mycroft’s spy movie worthy posturing. “What coverage?”  
John answered. “Over the past month every one of the newspapers owned by Magnussen on the continent and here in the UK has run front page headline stories portraying Elite Omega negatively. The baby battering Omega mother. The Omega who cheated on his Alpha with the man’s own father. The Elite Omega who shot his whole family dead. The Omega who smuggled drugs from Thailand inside his body…."  
“Well two can play at that game, leave it to me.” John had the shit eating grin that Greg knew meant trouble.

“It’s a deliberate campaign to sway public opinion. ” Mycroft spoke quietly, his tone was pessimistic. “ Very few ordinary Alphas’ and even fewer Betas' have ever met an Elite Omega , to many they are a pornographic sexual fantasy at best and a source of resentful, jealousy at worst.”  
“And they aren't a sexual fantasy to you Elite Alphas’ ? Don’t fool yourself .” John sounded pissed off.  
Greg hurried to move the conversation on. “It’ll take more than a few racy stories to brainwash the public wont it?”  
“ In my experience the sheer stupidity of much of the general public is impossible to underestimate .” Mycroft’s Elite voice was thoughtful.  
“Oi, two members of the general public are sat right here!” Greg tried to puncture Mycroft's oversized ego kindly whenever the occasion demanded it.  
“I hardly include you in that group Gregory.” Mycroft sounded affronted .  
“Just me …” John said as though he’d just been genuinely insulted and Mycroft looked almost startled as he prepared to apologise ; stopping only when John began laughing.

“I know the crap I was taught about them at school , and I’m Omega ….’an Elite Omega can always take a cock and always wants a knot, the bigger the better’…its bullshit of course but its easier to believe it than to take a look at how society treats them!” Greg said honestly.  
John’s voice was bleakly nostalgic. “Sherlock used to say he was sick of the stereotypes…he wanted to do so many things and he already knew he never could because of that bastard he was bonded to.”  
Mycroft stirred his tea even though it was stone cold and undrinkable. “ Originally he wanted to be a pirate.” Greg heard the private grief in the Elite Alpha’s voice.  
John smiled at this hint of the older brother , younger sibling relationship between the Holmes brothers. He swallowed to clear the emotion from his voice “ Was it the ship , the plank, the flag or the sword fighting ?”  
“You know Sherlock, quite possibly all four and of course the missing limbs and costumes.” ....Mycroft glanced away across the ornate , empty room. “ He hated his secondary gender, when he realised he was changing bodily he refused to eat for days, wouldn't speak ….then one day he was gone from boarding school, the police found him quickly before he could get far , waiting for a train to London at the local station , but still the fact that he’d run away should have alerted Daddy or Mummy or me . It didn’t …”

John’s jaw was tensely set. Greg looked from Alpha to Alpha and took it upon himself to address the elephant in the room. “Since neither of you are going to bring it up…have you spoken to Sherlock since his heat? How’d it go?”  
The words hung in the air.John’s compact fist tensed on the table and Mycroft’s bracketed mouth twitched before he controlled it.  
“I’m expecting a call at some stage this morning.”  
“And if that bastard has knotted him? Hurt him? What’s the plan then?” John’s contained , white hot anger was incendiary. “What if they spent a heat together? What’s next…happy family Christmas with him carving the turkey? What if he’s already got Sherlock pregnant? You do know that's the bastard who was there when Magnussen took your brother away?”

Mycroft’s shrewd gaze held John’s volatile stare. ”Then John I very much suspect , Riddick will face charges of rape bought by Magnussen himself as Sherlock’s Alpha… I tried to warn him but the man will never listen … under Bond Law Charles Magnussen has the exclusive right to partner Sherlock sexually …. an Elite Omega such as Sherlock is considered incapable of informed consent. The bond court may be the battleground but Sherlock’s body is the prize in the eyes of Charles Magnussen , make no mistake he wants Sherlock back. He recently purchased the most expensive and secure penthouse available n London, near Hyde Park and has been making several changes to its already high level of security and privacy. Its my belief the heat suite scent filtration unit seen being delivered was to be installed in his home.” There was a determined blandness to Mycroft’s tone as though he was holding all emotion in check..

John reached into his wallet and placed a small , neatly folded piece of white card with its threat upon the fine Irish linen table cloth. “ I found this in the pocket of a man I’d arranged to meet. He was dead.”  
“May I?” Mycroft asked politely. John nodded.  
“Shit! Why the heck are you only telling me this now?” Greg was angry.  
“It only happened last night Greg. I’ve been …busy.”

“ Written with a gold nibbed Mont Blanc fountain pen….the slight extra pressure and ink flow of the Danish words suggests someone who was familiar with that language since birth. The proverb is Danish. The paper is continental in origin, possibly from Vienna.”  
Mycroft read the words aloud, first in flawless Danish then effortlessly switching to English , translating without hesitation....Ambition and revenge are always hungry...there is no place at the table for you"'  
“That’s the strangest threat I’ve ever heard.” Greg was concerned .  
Mycroft reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a silver card case that had been blackened by fire, opening it he placed a second folded piece of white card beside John’s. Another elegant line in Danish…. John’s eyebrows shot up.

“The Holmes family chapel where Charles Magnussen bonded Sherlock was burnt to the ground last night. This was left for me to find inside the main house. The literal translation is ….. He who would enjoy the fire must bear its smoke.”


	20. A Guilty Conscience Needs No Accuser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft meets with Aric Weber and a painful , closely guarded secret is laid bare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The German translates as....  
> Das ist das Haus....this is the house.  
> warten Sie hier......wait here  
> Ich bin .....I am  
> Sie haben mich erwartet.?...you were expecting me?
> 
> Latin terms  
> bona fide ....in good faith  
> Actus reus.... An illegal act.  
> The legal terms are all real although my use of them may not be 100% accurate......
> 
> Some readers may notice I managed to insert an object with My Little Pony on it into the story...

“Das ist das Haus.”  
Mycroft’s sharp eyes gave the white house with its pale blue painted wooden shutters and red tiled roof a cursory glance as he opened the door of the taxi. “Warten Sie hier.”  
The lawn was immaculate although there was not a single flower in any of the flower beds. Mycroft followed the path around the side of the house and found, to his bemusement, a collection of brightly, coloured gaudy gnomes and what appeared inexplicably to be the tail end of a plastic rabbit protruding incongruously from the soil.

The Edelweiss doorbell chimed out loudly and Mycroft peered through the glass panel at the stair lift and the Zimmer walking frame parked by the wall. No clues to be gained from this first view, except for the obvious.  
A door at the end of the hallway opened and a heavy set, tall man with a snub nose, a silver grey beard and a short darker grey head of hair emerged. He was wearing a pair of low slung trousers and an acid yellow t-shirt with the words ‘chubby tattooed bearded and AWESOME’ on the front in black lettering. A narrow strip of round , hairy belly was visible between T-shirt and trousers.  
Mycroft schooled his expression into bland politeness, watching as several cats wove between the man’s legs and fled out into the garden as soon as the door was opened.

“Herr Weber? Ich bin Mycroft Holmes.” Mycroft’s German was flawless. “ Sie haben mich erwartet?”  
“Ya I’m Aric, but I speak English. Hurry up and get in before my cats get out.”  
Mycroft found himself stood in a hallway that bore faint but distinct traces of urine …. though whether it was human or cat he couldn’t accurately discern, nor did he wish too.  
“Your coat,” Aric said impatiently and Mycroft suddenly wished he had left it in the back seat of the taxi as yet another cat, this one a strange orange colour, jumped up onto the bench under the plastic hook upon which Aric had hung Mycroft’s extremely expensive Paul Smith coat; leaving a trail of cat hairs behind as it rubbed its furred bottom roughly against the hem.

Aric threw open a door and led Mycroft through a strangely furnished sitting room with crystal animals in display cases and oppressively dark furniture into what had clearly once been the dining room. Boxes upon boxes were stacked against the wall along one side of the room, two tall filing cabinets were squashed in between the table and the far wall and between them was a serving hatch, a legacy of the 1960’s when the house had been built. The dining table itself was obscured by shambolic, towering piles of paperwork and case notes. Three computers stood open and ready for use on top of the 1930’s sideboard.  
Aric gestured for Mycroft to sit down as he moved yet another pile of documents from a chair and freed up the seat.  
  
On top of a printer sat yet another cat, this one grey and white with wild yellow eyes. It stared at Mycroft malevolently and trashed its tail angrily. Animals had never liked Mycroft and he found himself staring back at the animal rather confrontationally which was absurd of course.  
On the wall behind Aric’s head was what appeared to be an original 1960’s painting by Margaret Keane, judging from the frame. An emaciated cat with enormous eyes looked glumly out over the room. Mycroft knew exactly how it felt, the décor was profoundly unsettling.

There was a loud bang upon the serving hatch and the double doors flew open so violently they hit the wall either side, Mycroft had already noticed the marks on the faded pink wallpaper that indicated this happened often. Aric retrieved a gilded tray and carried it to the table. Mycroft saw the tray included a whole strudel. The chubby Philippino young man in his late twenties ,with bright blue gelled spiky hair , stood on the kitchen side of the hatch let loose a tirade of abuse and slammed the hatch doors closed.  
Aric seemed unperturbed. Mycroft noticed no signs of internal stress that he could detect… what had just happened was a normal event for this household.  
“My bond mate Aprielle. “Aric said with a nod of his head in the direction of the loud , random banging of saucepans now coming from the kitchen.  
He poured two black coffees and cut a huge slice of strudel which he slid on its plate over the table towards Mycroft.  
Mycroft added a considerable amount of cream to his coffee before taking the conversational initiative. “Herr Weber ….”  
Aric waved a hand and Mycroft fell into a puzzled silence as he watched the lawyer fill a huge black and chrome pipe lovingly and light it. Clouds of scented smoke wafted across the table towards Mycroft, it wasn’t a smell he disliked since his university lecturer had also been a pipe smoking man ...quite unlike the stinking cigars Siger , his father , had preferred.

“I have three questions, before I will consider accepting the case, I will need an answer to all three.” Aric puffed steadily at the pipe in a calm concentration that approached bliss.  
Mycroft nodded in assent.  
“Are you bonded to an Omega of the Elite Herr Holmes?”  
“I fail to see how that is of any relevance.” Mycroft detested personally intrusive questioning.  
Mycroft watched as Aric placed a folder , three identical fountain pens and what appeared to be a child’s ruler, adorned with small ponies in an assortment of hues, in a line in front of his seat.  
The lawyer looked impassively at Mycroft as he answered. “I was told you are single ….if in fact you are bonded to an Elite Omega any conversation ends here.”  
“I am unbonded and have never been bonded to any Omega…Elite or not. “Mycroft replied begrudgingly.  
“Then my next question is why not? For an Alpha of your lineage and wealth, it is uncommon is it not?” The lawyer uncapped one of the fountain pens and waited expectantly for a reply.  
“I have never wished to be.” Mycroft met the lawyer’s measured gaze with his own calm facade. More information was patently required to judge from the slight pressure of Aric’s top lip against the pipe. “ I am a difficult man to understand.” Aric’s stare was unwavering and Mycroft felt for a moment that he was on the witness stand. The lawyer waited for honesty. “I am ….uncomfortable with the idea .” It was the barest of truths yet it was the essence of truth and Mycroft was relieved when Aric simply nodded. Mycroft was duped into relaxing and the next question when it came was as shocking as a sluice of iced water.  
“Do you desire your Omega brother sexually?” Direct to the point of rudeness.  
Mycroft pushed back the chair and stood with a white flash of anger barely disguised behind his stiff icy hauteur. “I do NOT. Nor did I come here to be so insulted. My relations with Sherlock have never been inappropriate. I was led to believe you may help my brother...that is the sole reason I am here!“

“You would be disappointed perhaps to know that many Elite Alpha I have met seeking the restoration of a younger, beautiful Omega relation are motivated by incestuous desire and see little wrong with that. Experience has taught me that in many respected families a blind eye is turned. The question had to be asked …now we can move on... if you will sit down?”  
It wasn’t even an sincere attempt at an apology, yet the lawyers face showed no malice, the man simply waited. For a few seconds Mycroft still very much wanted to leave but then Aric opened the folder and Mycroft found himself staring down at a vile image of Charles Magnussen stood on a bed behind Sherlock's naked slim body. The Elite Omega had been turned upside down and his body pressed hard to the wall in some macabre headstand, his back was to his Alpha and his thighs were being held wide apart as Magnussen pressed his cock home. Even from a distance the flushed distress on Sherlock’s turned face was very obvious as was the boy’s clenched, pained fistful of pillow. Mycroft stared silently at the sickening image… nothing mattered except Sherlock….he sat back down.

“Using the years of conclusive evidence,” Aric gestured at the folder and boxes behind him. “ I believe we should press charges of actual bodily harm and aggravated assault, battery, multiple counts of rape and violent sexual assault. There is also a case for aggravated damages…due to the distress , shame and loss of self respect this caused your brother. I intend to claim that Charles Magnussen , as Sherlock’s Alpha , was guilty of contributory negligence … he should have taken reasonable care of his Omega which he clearly did not , he neglected and abused the boy. He will deny that naturally …its a long shot but worth including if it puts his actions and choices under the spotlight.”  
Aric puffed heavily at his pipe. The cat that had been sat on top of the printer fell off , landing on its feet with a sudden violent twist of its body.  
“I will of course be asking for a decree absolute , a breaking of the bond…do I need to tell you how rarely those are granted? No ? Good. We may however be more successful with a claim based upon a legal separation , with Sherlock likely to be allowed some degree of child visitation, supervised of course…. A great deal will depend on how much of your evidence is deemed admissible , without it our leverage diminishes significantly.”  
“ In a Bond Court composed solely of Elite Alpha should I even hold my breath awaiting the result of that decision?“  
“It’s less cut and dry than you may think. Some will disapprove of the violence , against what is clearly a young, submissive Omega and may push for its inclusion.” Aric stroked the cat which had jumped up onto his knee before placing it firmly back to the floor. ” The most lurid images may never make the court room but it may help us significantly if all of the most violent are known to have been seen by the general public .There are ways to achieve that.”

“You should prepare yourself however . Charles Magnussen is almost certain to demand the Bond Court agrees to appoint a bare trustee. Someone who isn’t involved in the case who will hold onto Magnussen’s property until it can be returned to him. He is unlikely to accept you in such a role.”  
“That ‘ property’ being my brother?” Mycroft’s tone was icily contemptuous.  
“His legal team would be negligent if they did not claim that as Sherlock’s beneficial owner Magnussen’s interests would best be protected by removing his Omega from your care to that of a less partisan individual.”  
“My brother is only 19 , he has suffered years of the most disgusting abuse.The court case will distress him and he will need support. In my opinion he is very much at risk…he has been abducted by his Alpha once before. He should be under my roof! Are you telling me that my care is to be denied him?” Mycroft was profoundly angry.  
Aric’s voice was calm and non judgemental. “ You should appoint a Beta individual, middle aged , preferably female, to act as Sherlock’s primary care giver in a separate dwelling during this time. I already asked John to speak with you about this , he knows a number of Beta ladies who have helped him by acting in that same capacity for many of the Omega’s John has helped. I know he mentioned a particular lady , a Mrs Martha Hudson , he felt you and Sherlock should meet.” Aric noted how reluctant Mycroft was . “ Herr Holmes , if you fail to appoint your own candidate then rest assured Charles Magnussen will propose his own and that person will be an individual unknown to any of us.”  
The inference was clear. Mycroft nodded. “Very well. I will agree to meet. Make no mistake however… I wish you to oppose the appointment of any such individual in court. I do not trust Charles Magnussen. Sherlock should remain with me where I can ensure his safety.”  
“The court generally accepts an Elite Alpha’s word as bona fide. If you press for this then you will lose.” Aric’s tone was firm. “Magnussen’s team will claim abuse of process …that it is unreasonable and that we have simply no legal right to deny or remove an Omega from his Alpha ad infinitum …he is likely to counter with a challenge of actus reus and demand his own supervised visits with Sherlock in order to maintain and repair their bond.”  
Mycroft rarely swore but he was rarely so tempted as he was now …..” On no account can that happen!”….Mycroft’s voice was laced with a deep , abiding hatred.

Aric stood up and fetched two glasses and a bottle of brandy from a gilded drinks trolley on wheels parked in the corner of the room. He threw out a small pink plastic flamingo from one of the glasses and poured a generous measure into each balloon glass, taking a drink without waiting for Mycroft. It was testament to Mycroft’s distress at the very thought of Charles bloody Magnussen in the same room as Sherlock that he immediately drained the glass without so much as a cursory glance to see if it was free from fingerprints , cat hair or dust as he usually would have done. Without so much as a word Aric refilled it.  
Aric spoke when Mycroft had done the same with that second glass in one smooth swallow. “ I work as I do , outside the restraints of any law firm, because I wish to choose not to participate in the abuse of Elite Omega. I began my career at Fessler and Doss , as I am sure you know. I took part in two legal actions on behalf of Elite Alpha males resulting in the return of the Omega concerned before my final case . In one of those cases the Omega I had so helpfully returned was sexually assaulted and beaten to death by his Alpha brother six months after the court case. I chose to make the harder choices , to work independently and to take no cases involving bonded Elite Alpha …That's why I asked you the questions I did. For fifteen years I have successfully bought and won case after case involving the abuse of so called common Omega. I detest the phrase but let it serve here.  
I have prepared and had ready for trial eight cases of Elite Omega all seeking to dissolve an abusive bond they were forced into with a Elite Alpha.  
Shall I tell you how many of those cases were successfully bought before the Bond Court’s? None Herr Holmes . Without exception pressure was bought to bear and in each cases the Omega ‘ chose’ to return to their bonded mate. “

Mycroft met the lawyers flat gaze.  
“ What makes you think your brother will prove the exception?”  
“Because despite all you see in the photographs I have provided , Sherlock is far from beaten. He risked his own life as recently as this year to end an Omega pregnancy himself rather than allowing that child to be born to suffer as he has.  
Our father, Siger ...never treated him equally . Sherlock was ignored and left very much to his own devices , he ran wild on the family estate until he neared puberty when all the freedoms he enjoyed were systematically taken from him in order to keep him like some mythical virgin…ready for the highest bidder.  
  
Siger had a collection of Omega erotica , he treasured it. On my 18 th birthday he insisted on showing it to me… images so vile I have never forgotten them, articulated models that could be used to mount another and fornicate with it…the expression of pain painted on the faces of those models and shown all to vividly in the photographs; all very much part of their attraction as far as my father was concerned. It sickened me.

When Siger began to curtail Sherlock’s freedom , after his 13th birthday made him officially teenage, my brother; who had always loved exploring the grounds , protested , he argued…finally Siger led him to believe if he begged that was the key. So Herr Weber, Sherlock begged ….to be allowed the fresh air , to lay on the lawn in summer , to swim in the lake and collect samples of soil and nature as he always had. Harmless boyish things that caused nobody any harm."  
“And?”  
"Siger refused him any such freedom. He belittled Sherlock for daring to ask and suggested he concentrate on learning how to please an Alpha sexually because soon he would be bonded, mated and pregnant. I believe the phrase used was 'You'll have a knot in your arse soon enough boy!'  
I’m certain Siger considered it a job well done and my brother corrected…. until the very next morning when every single one of our father’s precious Erotica collection lay smashed and broken in the fireplace of the study where it was housed.  
  
I have never seen my father so angry or Sherlock so pale. The shouting between them could be heard throughout the house. At one stage father shook him in the air like a rag doll; Sherlock’s head snapped forward and back so hard I feared his neck would break. I know he was caned... although he never told me what happened in father's study once the door was shut. Sherlock was locked in his room afterwards for days.  
I do know my brother refused to beg any more , he refused to apologise and eventually Siger’s anger had no more outlet since he drew the line at killing an Omega . To the best of my knowledge Sherlock never spoke another word to him.  
You see Herr Weber Sherlock may have been forced to appease his abuser but he will never betray those who love him or who try and help him…I broke the Erotica not my brother. I smashed every revolting piece into smithereens and I did so unthinkingly ...angered by the fate I saw coming for Sherlock like a thief in the night to steal him away from everything he loved .  
I was the second Alpha son and always overshadowed by the memory of our older brother...Sherringford ...who easily exceeded father's expectations for his Alpha son and heir until he died , quite suddenly in an accident skiing off piste and I found myself in father's spotlight.

Sherlock could have spared himself at my expense but he would not. I owe Sherlock his freedom and I know Herr Weber that he has the courage to fight for it.”


	21. Mad Behaviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's pushes himself too hard, too soon...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING....this update is going to be heavily triggering if you know how impossible it can feel to try and get physically and emotionally close to anyone after being abused.  
> There is a flashback to some of the past and that could also trigger.  
> I really don't want to that to happen to anyone.
> 
> I wanted to show Sherlock's conflicted POV when it comes to his body and his emotions and how overwhelming the past and your own self hatred can be when you haven't had therapy and you don't know how to heal yourself. Losing your temper and manipulation are all part of the healing process.
> 
> If you want to know what track I listened to a lot when I was writing this update...it was Mad Behavior by Izzy Bizu.

Part of the new night time routine involved Sherlock giving in and saying he was tired first, even when he wasn’t and it was a lie.  
It didn’t feel like a bad lie, because if Sherlock stayed up and didn’t go to bed Alan wouldn't either. He’d stick to Sherlock like glue even when he kept falling asleep and waking up with a jolt as soon as his eyes closed and his head fell back. Once he’d snored for four whole minutes to Sherlock’s bemused fascination before snapping out of it and blinking blearily at the Omega.

Sherlock didn’t like sleep. He hadn't told Alan yet but bad dreams were becoming more of a problem. If he let himself sleep Sherlock would end up scared awake and gasping in the dark, disorientated and terrified, his heart pounding, sure that the man breathing quietly on the other side of the double bed was Charles and not Alan. Sometimes in his dreams Charles found them and Sherlock was hiding in the woods but he knew where he was and he was coming for him. Once in a dream Alan was stabbed and the blood was everywhere and Sherlock stepped into it in the dark before seeing it. It stuck stickily between his toes and he kept trying to wash it away but it kept spreading over his hands. 

Staying awake all night and napping on the couch later when Alan was awake to watch over him was easier.

Sherlock stole a glance at the Alpha. Riddick had rubbed his forehead five times in the last ten minutes and his blink rate had increased, he was definitely tired. Sherlock could hear the tiredness under the Alpha’s voice as Alan stood up wearily; obviously about to suggest putting the kettle on since he’d looked at it twice already.  
“Cuppa?” Alan asked as he stretched.  
“I’m tired.” Sherlock made sure he yawned as he said it.  
There was clear relief in Alan’s face as the man asked “Sleepy? You go on through lad. I’ll rinse the glasses.”  
Sherlock brushed his teeth slowly and stared at himself dubiously in the mirror before going through into the dark bedroom, making sure the lantern was on and climbing under the duvet in the pj’s he was already wearing. The bed was warm. Alan always put a hot water bottle on Sherlock’s side of the mattress as though he thought the Omega felt the cold. It was nice to be cared about again.

Sherlock closed his eyes and waited. He could hear Alan in the bathroom, spitting into the sink and doing that weird gurgle thing with the mouthwash he always did. Sherlock’s eyes were still closed as Alan came in and undressed, Sherlock didn’t know why he never looked to see what Alan looked like under his clothes. He wondered sometimes but other times the idea of being caught looking scared him. Alan never asked him why he kept his eyes closed, it’d just become the way it was.  
Sherlock heard Riddick placing his handgun, wallet and car keys on the floor. He moved the lantern down onto the floor and angled its light away from the bed so it cast long shadows against the far wall. Then Sherlock felt the old mattress dip as Alan got into bed on top of the duvet and pulled the blankets up. Sherlock listened as he yawned.

“Alright lad?” Alan asked and Sherlock opened his eyes. Same as he always did. Routine. Sherlock waited as the Alpha’s hand reached out for his in the shadowed bed. Alan’s index finger rubbing the skin between Sherlock’s knuckles in slow circles. Sherlock turned his palm upwards and let their fingers link together and Alan’s content sigh said it all.  
“Your fingers are bloody freezing. “Alan said affectionately. “Cold hands, warm heart…you ever hear that saying?”  
Sherlock shook his head  
“It’s not proven like your science is but, still, I reckon there's some truth to the old sayings.” Alan was thoughtful.  
Sherlock knew there couldn’t be because the circulatory system didn’t work like that but he didn’t say so…. Charles had made sure he learnt that lesson early. Never contradict an Alpha’s opinion.

Alan pressed Sherlock’s hand to his mouth and kissed it.  
That was another part of what they did now…kissing….it wasn’t as bad as Sherlock had thought it could be. It was _nothing _like it had been with Charles.  
Alan kissed gently, like he was learning secrets, his hands hadn't once pushed under Sherlock’s clothes. His fingers didn’t bruise the bone beneath the muscle. He didn’t grab or pull. He never caught at Sherlock’s head, holding him still and trapped so he could force his tongue down Sherlock’s throat. If Sherlock broke away Alan let it happen, he wasn’t even angry …if anything he looked sad.__

Sherlock _was _trying though, even when it wasn’t easy. He liked the hand holding a lot and if Alan laid still on his back, let Sherlock lean over him and just kissed back as Sherlock kissed him… then it came close to feeling good.  
“Going better,” was Riddick’s quiet summation and Sherlock agreed because he hadn't almost passed out again like he had the first time they’d tried it. Sherlock hadn't forgotten the helpless, breathless, uncontrollable shaking as everything around him went black edged and it felt like he was spinning dizzily down an endless vortex. He would have fallen if Alan’s arms hadn't been around him, holding him up.__

Alan hadn't seemed to want to try more kissing for a whole week and Sherlock had spent every day fretting because they _had _to do this if he was to stay but Alan didn’t seem to realise that truth even though his eyes kept dropping to Sherlock’s mouth all the time! Once for a total of twenty-seven times in the one day which was frankly absurd.  
By the end of the week a desperately worried Sherlock had come up with a plan to get them back on track. In the mornings when Alan was in the shower Sherlock practised kissing Alan’s pillow, open mouthed. He felt ridiculous, trying to fake passion; making sure he breathed in the warm, masculine scent of the Alpha’s skin and hair as he did so until he was ready to try again for real. Picking the right moment was more difficult …there were lots of times in every day when Alan’s face or eyes showed he was thinking about kissing Sherlock but by the time Sherlock could make himself look as though he wanted to be kissed the moment was over and his chance gone. Other times Alan ruined the chance for both of them by looking away or even moving away as though he’d reminded himself that _no _we don’t do that together.____

In the end though it had been easy when the timing was right. Sherlock had cooked something that was better than just edible for once, eggs with red onion, peppers, chopped mushrooms and cooked rice stirred in. It wasn’t burnt and Alan had been sniffing over the pan while it was still cooking and when it was served up he’d said “Bloody heck lad! I’d pay to eat a plate of this!” and eaten every last bite. When he’d stood up , to collect the empty plates , he’d bent down to plant a kiss on top of Sherlock’s hair and Sherlock had seen what he was about to do in the glass of the dark window and had tilted his head back fast so Alan’s kiss landed on the edge of Sherlock’s soft mouth. When Alan stilled guiltily as though he had done something wrong Sherlock said “Don’t you _want _to? “as though he was hurt and then added softly….” I do.”  
That had been the end of Alan’s pretending that he didn’t want to kiss Sherlock when he was the easiest Alpha to read in Sherlock’s life and the Omega knew that Alan had never stopped wanting to kiss him and just didn’t feel like he should in case Sherlock reacted badly again. Alan worried too much in Sherlock’s opinion, after all he’d done a lot more than just kissing before in his life and it wasn’t as though it was his first time for anything even if Alan acted like in some way it still was.__

Alan moved, trying to get comfortable. His voice was sleepy. “You awake lad?”  
Sherlock lifted Alan’s hand up with his own and pressed a kiss between the solid bones of Alan’s wrist by way of an answer.  
“Want a cuddle?”  
Hope…Sherlock could hear it under everything Riddick said, and feel it in the vague, tightening of Alan’s warm fingers around his own pale bony fingers. He could read need in the Alpha’s hard swallow and sexual attraction in the tiny pauses in between Alan’s words. He nodded.  
“Shift over then.” Riddick waited as Sherlock moved carefully into his open arm. “There you go love.” Alan knew better than to trap Sherlock underneath his arm. He paused and waited for the boy to settle before finally placing his hand along Sherlock’s slim, muscled side, over the top of the baggy t-shirt Sherlock always wore to bed. It had once been Alan’s and it drowned Sherlock’s slim, dancers frame and gaped down at the neck and back so far the Omega’s huge bond bite was always on show, but Sherlock claimed it felt better than having clothing rub on the broken skin. Truth was the Omega found Alan’s scent comforting.

Alan’s thumb rubbed slowly along one of Sherlock’s ribs. This cautious touching was another recent change that hadn’t gone as Sherlock expected. Alan was as relaxed and easy going when it came to this as he was in everything, letting Sherlock initiate what happened which meant that nothing very much had happened. Alan seemed to think Sherlock was made of glass despite everything he’d seen Charles do and he seemed more than ok with the slow pace but it put Sherlock’s nerves on edge waiting.

Sherlock lowered his face to Alan’s chest, even covered by the black Nike singlet Alan wore in bed instead of the pj top that Sherlock had stolen for himself, the Omega could still feel the heat of Riddick’s body and under his sharp cheekbone he could feel the thumping beat of the man’s steady heart. Sherlock turned his face against Alan and breathed his warm Alpha scent in through opened pink lips. Deep slow inhalations that Sherlock took all the way to the bottom of his lungs and held there. Sherlock kept on; breathing Alan in, open mouth pressed against the man’s singlet until the cotton felt damp and warm underneath his mouth. It made everything feel better.

“You scenting me?” Alan sounded pleased about it but for Sherlock the words came as a shock. That was of course what he was doing.... he hadn’t even realised and worse, hadn’t asked permission first!  
“Sorry!” Sherlock’s blush was scalding his face. He felt like an idiot. The worst Omega ever.  
“Go for it lad,” Alan looked as pleased about Sherlock’s mistake as he’d sounded when Sherlock looked up, though the happy expression disappeared as soon as he saw Sherlock’s flustered, red face. Riddick looked concerned now. “What’s the matter?”  
“I didn’t ask you. First. I’m not good at this. At _being _Omega.”__

Alan looked confused. “Far as my opinion goes you do just fine at it. That an Elite thing… asking? Sounds a daft idea to me.... Now if you wanted to bite me again, a heads up might be mannerly.” Sherlock felt Alan shake with laughter against his side. “So how far does this whole asking go then? Is it only before you scent someone or before you do …anything?” Riddick had a cheeky grin on his face .  
“All the way, “ It wasn’t true but Sherlock liked watching Riddick laugh and feeling his chest move.  
“Sounds a bit kinky to me!” Alan’s fingers moved faster, tickling over Sherlock’s ribs. “So do I ask before I do this? Please can I tickle you ?” Both hands reached for Sherlock’s ribs .  
Sherlock gasped …” Stop!” amid laughing.  
Alan’s hands slid around his sides to cup his back, broad calloused finger tips in the long, graceful indentation of Sherlock’s spine. Sherlock took a deep breath.  
“What about this …do I ask first or is air alright?” Alan lifted his head off the pillow and blew a slow streak of air over Sherlock’s throat just under his neck. Sherlock could see grey flecks mixed in with the blue of the Alpha’s eyes.  
Sherlock shivered. “Definitely ask, before …that.” He was suddenly breathless.  
Alan’s intent eyes didn’t look away. “No blowing you without asking so…” His tone was teasing.  
Sherlock’s abrupt still fear froze Alan in place. Sherlock didn’t dare move or look away.

“I didn’t think…didn’t mean it like that.” Alan said awkwardly and Sherlock was suddenly, violently sick of this! He tried not to hear the desire hidden behind the joking words but he knew it was there. He wasn’t that stupid that he didn’t know how Alpha’s thought or what all of them wanted, even Alan it seemed.  
Alan lay very still. Deflecting.  
The anger came from nowhere. Why was Alan insisting he didn’t want to touch Sherlock when a fool could tell he did! When Sherlock knew he fucking did, so why lie! Why was he so fucking obstinate as though he thought it would change anything to wait and wait! Why couldn’t he get on and do ‘it’ to him and then Sherlock would know how Alan fucked an Omega and there wouldn’t be this huge, fucking crippling _fear _in his head anymore! God! He was driving him crazy, what did he even think Sherlock was, protecting him like some virgin when they both knew Sherlock was the furthest thing from that … was filthy and used and even Charles had called him a whore! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!__

Sherlock could hear Alan saying his name over and over, worried. Keeping very still in case Sherlock panicked. Sherlock felt like hitting him. Like punching him over and over. Like screaming at him every name under the sun that was vile and hateful.  
“Shut up!” Sherlock spat the words out. “Stop talking!” and then…” Stay still!” even though Alan hadn’t moved at all. Sherlock was gasping for breath. Alan lay beneath Sherlock’s pinning arm, pushing down over his chest… he didn’t try to move, his face more concerned than Sherlock had ever seen it.  
Sherlock was breathing in short hard panted inhalations. He grabbed wildly with both hands at the blanket over Riddick and shoved it onto the floor. Alan was saying his name again and made a half-hearted, didn't want to hurt Sherlock , grab for the blanket but Sherlock wasn’t listening to anymore of his lying shit!

Sherlock knew the second the doubled over blanket was gone why Alan had wanted to keep it…. the Alpha’s heavy, thickened cock lay against his thigh. Easy to see through threadbare navy cotton.  
“Lad….!” Alan warned him, his voice tense and unhappy.  
Sherlock was too furious to listen as he forced his hand to move. He didn’t let himself hesitate, making sure his curved palm landed right over that bulging outline. Alan’s ragged gasp for air was loudly audible in the shocked silence. All Sherlock could hear was the mad, desperate sound of his own gasping breathing. He made his hand move, pressing down as it slid up that heavy, thick shaft, feeling hot hard cock through the material.  
Alan said it again…” Lad!” This time he sounded almost afraid. He said more but the words were all lost.

Fuck that! Fuck everything! Sherlock dragged in air.  
Mouth…he could do that. He’d done that for Charles without ever wanting to and… _ugh _he could almost feel Lauther’s fat cock and the press of that heavy belly against his head ……if he shut his eyes and his stomach it’d be able to do this…__  
Alan was growling under him, a pressured constant noise. Trapped and not liking it.  
Sherlock knew his hand had stopped moving along Alan’s cock. He couldn’t make either his hand or his arm move. He couldn’t bend his head down. He wanted to vomit. It was at the back of his throat. If he moved he would be sick.....  
It felt like he was out of his body…. he couldn’t get back in....  
God! Fuck! What was happening!

____

Alan’s strong hands were around Sherlock’s wrists, wide fingers closing around like cuffs so hard it almost hurt. Sherlock couldn’t focus. Everything swung sideways and he made a scared sound as Alan hauled him off and rolled him over. Alan’s body was over him now, arms holding Sherlock’s wrists pinned down as the Omega thrashed.  
“I said …no! You don’t do that to yourself, you don’t do that to me …. do you hear me! God help me lad!”  
Alan’s grip was crushing. Sherlock’s skin beneath and between Alan’s encircling fingers was burning, pulled so tight it pinched. The strength of the grasp had Sherlock back in his body. The abrupt stunned awareness that came with that was staggering painful. Sherlock knew he was sobbing.

He was in Alan’s arms now, wet messy face pushing into Alan’s neck. Trying to push into Riddick’s body more, he had to make Riddick hold him closer. Painfully needy. Alan was shushing him like a child…. “Sshhh, sshhh, sshhh. It’s alright. It’s alright. Sshhh!” Sherlock was flushed, hot, couldn’t breathe, crying hopelessly…. couldn’t get Alan to see they needed to do this and it was all falling apart!  
“Sshhh, hush.” Alan gentled him as Sherlock pushed at the Alpha’s body. It wasn’t enough.  
Sherlock was terrified, crying so hard the words were distorted, his mouth pressed into Alan’s neck.  
“Sshhh…it’s okay I’m here …. Sshhh Sherlock…. Sshhh.”  
“You won’t fuck me …it’s not…ok. How can it be ok? You don’t want me!”  
Alan’s body went stiff. His arms rigid round Sherlock. “God. Fucking. Christ…. Are you blind?” He held on as Sherlock tried to get away, shamed. "Course I fucking want you…. I love you don’t I? …but not like …that…not ever like that! You couldn’t even look at me!” His voice was shaken.

The truth hurt…raw pain inside Sherlock like pressure. He was trembling…shaking hard.  
Alan tried again.” You listen to me…. there is nothing bloody wrong with slow! I know that bastard taught you something else but he isn’t here. I’m not him…I don’t get off on hurting Omega! I do bloody want you…but my way not his…. slow. You hear me Sherlock?....Slow!”

Sherlock felt like he could pass out. Alan had a hand behind Sherlock’s head now and was hugging his head close to his neck.  
“Christ Almighty! Stop it. Are you listening to a word I’ve said? … I love you…I don’t need to fuck you for that to be true. I’m yours… Christ you were scenting me for God’s sake…understand? That’s you did that, that’s your instinct. That wasn’t forced.” Alan kissed Sherlock’s hair. His mouth was so close Sherlock felt every breath in between words. “It’s the love not the fucking that’s bloody more important. I couldn’t even touch Billy at the end …it never meant I didn’t love him…. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” Alan hugged tight.” When you want me; IF you fucking want me… that’s when I want you to touch me, that’s how I am.”

The lantern died, leaving them talking in the black dark. Sherlock kept saying sorry until Riddick said it was enough, it was all okay. Alan held him all night long. Sherlock let him. He didn’t have any dreams .


	22. Through Dark Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's bond bite is infected and swollen. He can't move his neck and he's in pain. Riddick is forced to risk them both being found to get help....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a time skip between this update and the last. Sherlock has been living off grid with Riddick for several months now.
> 
> Next update ...John and maybe even some CAM....  
> Sorry I was late posting this update. My daughter was ill over the weekend.
> 
> BlueTrasno...the track this time is All Goes Wrong by Chase and Status.

It was the end of a long and stressful day. The free Omega health clinic was situated in a porta- cabin near an industrial estate, across the road from a football ground and two pubs that had bad reputations for match related violence. The building itself was old and rundown but its rooms, though small, were painted a bright cheerful yellow and the heating was always on high since Omega felt the cold.  
The staff were few in number yet dedicated.  
The clinic opened at 9 and stayed open until 6 Monday to Friday, it closed at 9 on Saturdays …. none of the staff liked working those extra late hours. The clinic seemed to provoke Alpha aggression. The clinic had a strict no Alpha admittance rule and the staff all knew never to open the door without looking through the reinforced panel and using the intercom first. Everyone who worked there had grown used to the random , sudden banging of fists upon the barred window facing the street as men passed by and to the jeering shouts ... though the Omega patients sat anxiously in the crowded waiting room would often flinch at the sound the staff acted like it was nothing.

The clinic was packed each day, every day, all day and Lars had been kept busy dealing with two Omega with a sexually transmitted disease passed on by the same unfaithful Alpha, an older Omega with an addiction to alcohol, a teenager with an eating disorder who was clearly trying to delay the onset of his first ever heat, another who was hiding his pregnancy, two bonded Omega seeking terminations, an Omega with bipolar who had stopped taking his meds yet again , another who had suffered his second miscarriage, a crying boy who had been ‘ correctively’ beaten by his father after kissing a Beta , and another Omega in his 30s who had been rejected by his Alpha for a younger Omega who was pregnant and on the edge of a nervous breakdown. 

Many of the Omega Lars saw were on medication for depression or insomnia.  
It was hard, doing the work he did as a Doctor in a clinic that dealt with the unhappy and the stressed, to remember that some bond matches were happy and supportive. The things he saw daily had affected Lars and influenced his own choice to remain single and unbonded. When he dated it was always a Beta and during his heat Lars preferred to use a sex toy and only very rarely an actual Alpha...usually another Doctor , in a 'friends with benefits' casual arrangement. Lars wasn’t prepared to restrict his life by risking pregnancy or to take a chance on choosing the wrong Alpha… not happening. Like all of the Doctors’ who volunteered in the free health clinic ; work came first. He typically worked a two-week shift, with the week before his own heat and the week of it always taken as time off.

Tonight it was Lars who had stayed late again and would be locking up. He was finishing up some referral letters while Ingrid, the Beta receptionist, was hoovering and tidying away magazines. The hoovering sound stopped abruptly and Lars heard a brusque banging at the locked door…it sounded like someone was kicking the door hard. Ingrid called for him, she sounded worried and as Lars hurried down the corridor he realised exactly what was happening, the bottom of the door was shaking. There was someone outside who'd been booting the metal kick plate and from the height and sheer muscular size of the man it could only be an Alpha.  
The rule was that nobody opened the front door unless someone was with them and that nobody spoke to an Alpha alone. Lars pressed the intercom button and spoke...” We’re closed. We open Monday at 9.” The Alpha turned around and Lars saw that behind him there was somebody else sat on the top step leaning heavily against the metal railing. It looked like that person couldn’t stand.

“ He can’t move his neck, something’s wrong with his bond bite…he’s in pain! He needs a Doctor.” Snow was swirling around the stressed Alpha, settling in his short dark hair and on the broad shoulders of his dark khaki snow jacket.  
Lars punched the door open and stepped outside. It was freezing. He could hear the sharp hissed breathing of an Omega in severe pain. “Bring him inside.”  
The Alpha was crouching down by the concrete steps and as he stood he carefully lifted what Lars could now see was a youth.  
The Omega gave an aching moan as he was moved and Lars heard the Alpha muttering “Sorry…. sorry lad!” in English.

Once inside the waiting room the Alpha looked even larger and more muscular . He was agitated and intimidating and Ingrid looked at him nervously. Lars led the way down the short corridor to his exam room and Ingrid, bless her scared little heart , followed them in to act as chaperone, standing unobtrusively by the wall.  
“You can put him down on the couch.” Lars pulled down a length of clean paper covering and turned on the lights. The Alpha had sat the Omega on the edge of the examination bed and was undoing his coat, the fur around the hood was full of snow. The Alpha’s back blocked the Omega from view.

“Did you bite him?” Lars asked bluntly because it seemed likely. Some Alpha were freaked out by the sheer amount of blood or the pain that a bond bite could cause if it was wrongly placed and Lars had seen many bites that were.  
“No…. I didn’t bite him! Will you bloody help him, he’s in pain!” The Alpha’s accent was English and Lars switched to that language instantly. Lars could sense the agitation radiating from the Alpha and he was wary, knowing that made the man unpredictable.  
“Can you help him sit back so I can get a look?” Lars snapped on some blue latex exam gloves and stepped up. The Alpha tried to settle the Omega back into a semi sitting position but the youth wouldn’t let him go, clinging on in a desperate mixture of panted fear and gasping pain. “I can’t examine the bond bite like this. I need a clear look at his throat.” Lars explained again as calmly as he could.  
“It’s not on his bloody throat ….”  
Lars saw it then as the coat fell away, the neck of the Omega’s sweatshirt was soaked with a blood stained discharge coming from the massive raw bite that covered the nape of his slim neck. Lars had only ever seen a Dominus bite in medical journals but he knew instantly that was what he was looking at. He’d never met or treated an Elite Omega. They could have been as mythical as unicorns for all he and most common Alpha and Omega’s knew. He couldn’t see the face of this one now . He couldn’t take his eyes off the swollen open wound.

Lars took a deep breath in and palpated the skin…he couldn’t bring himself to call this blood stained, puffy mess a bond bite. The tissue was inflamed, leaking a nasty, angry looking yellowish wet lymph. It must have been like that for hours if the staining was any clue. Blood was oozing darkly from several of the deeper tooth marks. The Omega was hot and feverish.  
“When was he bitten? How long has he been like this?”  
“When was he bitten? ...Years ago. He’s been saying his neck hurt all week, that's happened before and always got better by itself.... this shit only started this morning.” The Alpha sounded like he was beginning to lose control as the Omega whined.  
Lars tried again. “When did you bond him? When did you mate?”  
“I keep sodding telling you …. we didn’t mate, we didn’t bond. I didn’t do this. Now will you bloody do something to help him or not!”  
Lars had no idea what was going on here or how an Elite Omega of all things was sat on an examination couch in a free Omega health clinic and he hadn't the time to dwell on that now. He tried to concentrate and run through medical options and symptoms as he began cleaning the bite site, wiping away the leaking discharge and using a syringe to flush out the oozing teeth marks as they bled sluggishly. The Alpha wasn’t an Elite, that much was obvious.

Cleaning the bite was painful for the boy and Lars could hear him whimpering, his body shaking each time he was touched. The way the Omega was holding his neck was oddly rigid and Lars made that connection and knew what was wrong even though he’d only read about it in case studies. “What’s his name? “Lars felt around the boy's pale neck for the scent glands around the base of the boy’s slim throat and buried under his ears. All were solid and swollen.  
“Will.” One-word answer, almost a growl, the Alpha answered for the Omega , battling to control his protective, proprietorial urge, his jaw tightly clenched.  
“Will…I’m Lars. I’m a Omega and a Doctor here. I’m going to help you. Your bite needs to be drained, its infected. To do that I need to insert a needle into the epidural space around your spine, drain some fluid and relieve some of that pressure. I’ll numb the site first but it will be painful ...you must keep very still. You can’t move Will…not at all.”  
“He won’t.” The Alpha sounded sure and Lars watched as the man whispered reassurances to the Omega, and pulled him closer. “I’ve got you. Hush now, that’s my lad.”

Lars wiped a large area of skin right up into the Omega’s hairline and across between his shoulders just to be sure it was sterile. The skin was dyed a bright unnatural pink from the sterilising fluid by the time he was done. He taped a white paper drape in place and readied the local anaesthetic. The Alpha holding the boy nodded as Lars placed his fingers either side of the Omega’s swollen bite and Lars saw the man take a strong, immovable cupped grasp of the Omega’s skull and hold his head down hard. The boy tensed as the needle slid in and Lars heard him moaning as the local anaesthetic was injected and stung. The Alpha shushed him softly but his eyes were fixed threateningly on Lars as the Doctor prepared the larger needle and felt for the space between the bones.  
“I’ve got you. You just hold onto me.” The Alpha wrapped his left arm around the Omega and held on, his bicep was huge across the Omega’s thin back.  
As the larger needle slid in there was a moment of extreme pain and the Omega panicked, crying out in shock. The Alpha didn’t let the boy move once. Lars kept his hand steady easing the needle past that point. He had never done this procedure before; it took all his concentration.  
“Fuck....fuck! …. FUCK!” It was muffled against the Alpha’s shoulder.  
The pain, however unpleasant for the Omega, told Lars he was in the right spot and he withdrew the needle slowly, leaving a drain in place that had been inside the hollow needle. A little gentle suction from an empty syringe at the end of the long tube and the bloody, fluid began to drain. Lars attached a small drainage bag and taped the tube and the bag to Will’s back. The boy was underweight, his ribs and spine prominent as he gasped for breath. There was some odd striped scarring over his ribs ...almost like whip marks.  
The Alpha was soothing him. “It’s alright love. Soon be better.”

“Ingrid could you get a clean blanket please and a pillow?“ As soon as she was back Lars turned off the bright exam light over the couch and addressed the Alpha. “You can lay him down on his side. I’d like to cover him so he doesn’t go into shock.”  
The Alpha turned the boy in his arms and lowered him back gently. He didn’t step away. He didn’t look away. Lars still hadn’t got a clear look at the Omega.  
“With your permission I’d like to give Will an injection of steroids to help the healing process? There is no chance he is pregnant is there?”  
The Alpha gave him a confrontational stare…. “No.” He answered shortly as he pulled the blanket up over the boy who was laying with his eyes closed tight and tucked it around him. The Omega curled under it in the recovery position, shaking, as the Alpha pulled the blanket up so high it covered part of the boy’s face.  
Lars caught a flash of pale skin, full pink lips and dark long lashes when the boy moved and the blanket slipped as he injected him. It was enough to see the boy was beautiful and younger than Lars had guessed. Time to check the Omega was legal! It wouldn’t be the first time an Alpha had been all over an Omega who wasn’t old enough.  
“How old are you Will?” The Omega didn't reply.  
Sure enough the Alpha didn’t like that question and responded with a low growl. “He’s 19. What the Hell does that have to do with anything? What’s wrong with him? It’s not meningitis is it?”  
“No. I can rule that out.”

The Alpha hung over the boy…. that was normal for an Alpha whose mate was sick or in pain …the man’s eyes didn’t move from the Omega as Lars took the boys pulse and placed a blood oxygen monitor on the end of his finger.  
“You say he’s been like this all day?”  
“Aye. Since he woke up, we had a heat pack on it…. that gunk didn’t start leaking out his neck till a few hours ago. He says he can’t move his head?” The Alpha was stroking the boy’s arm.  
"This has happened before ?"  
"Couple of times. Nothing like this . Just a sore neck for a few days."  
The ignorance about Elite Omega health was astounding and revealing. "He isn't your bonded Omega is he? "  
“I never said he was ...I look after him that's all.”  
I don’t believe you. I think you bit him when you knotted him!”  
“I already bloody told you…. I wasn’t mating him.” The Alpha was defensive. “He isn’t even in fucking heat!”  
“He was in heat a few weeks ago and you didn’t drain the bite then …that’s why he’s like this, you let the fluid build-up between the bones!” Lars was righteously angry now, Alpha ignorance caused so much unnecessary pain. “It’s not enough to mate him or knot him…. you need to open up the bite, at least break the skin so it can drain away.”  
“I didn’t … Fucking Hell!” It was said with a frustrated growl.  
“You didn’t what? “  
“I keep telling you. I didn’t bloody mate him or knot him. I never touched him in heat or fucking out of it! …. I don’t touch him like that!”  
And that was the single most shocking thing Lars had heard all day.

The Omega on the bed opened his eyes into the tense silence. Lars saw old , white , jagged edged scarring covered the boy’s slim, blue veined wrist as he reached for the Alpha, catching his jacket sleeve weakly. “Just…. tell him Alan.” The Omega’s voice still bore traces of the pain he was in.  
The Alpha stopped talking and looked down, asking quietly. “You sure? You deduced what'll happen then did you ?”  
“Yes…. ” It was a weak hiss of pain but the Alpha nodded.  
The man’s voice was resigned but reluctant as he spoke. “The Omega belongs to an Elite Alpha. I was employed as his personal bodyguard.” The Alpha stopped talking and looked down at the teenager…. “He’s... fleeing abuse.”  
Lars stared the Alpha right in the eyes. Judging the truth behind the words. “That’s all you had to say.” The Alpha stared levelly back at Lars with animosity clear in his watchful eyes.. “Ingrid can you make us all some coffee?”

An hour later and the Omega was starting to move his neck more freely. Alan had a mug of coffee and was helping the Omega take sips through a straw and a nasty mess of blood stained discharge was pooling in the bottom of the bag Lars had taped to the Omega’s back. He removed it as painlessly as he could and covered the bite with a sterile dressing. Lars withdrew to the desk with his coffee to give the boy some small measure of privacy to recover in.  
The boy had been sick twice but seemed to be ’brightening up’ as the Alpha called it.  
“You make me sound like a weather report.” The Omega spoke softly but Lars had good hearing.  
“Moody spells to begin with today, clearing up to sunshine and smiles later?” The affection in the Alpha’s voice was clear.  
“I’m not starring in a Disney movie.”  
“Shame that.... I could quite fancy you in full song with blue birds flying around your head. “ The Alpha teased.  
“Never going to happen.” The Omega sounded tired.  
“Mind you ...with your moods it'd be vampire bats more likely. Can they sing ?”  
"Idiot." It was said fondly.  
The Alpha laughed as he took the boy's thin hand in his own.

Lars was trying to decide what to do. The truth instantly fits and has undeniable authenticity and Lars believed the Omega had been abused. He’d seen the heavy slashed scarring on the boy’s thin wrists that could only be from a past suicide attempt and the severity of the bond bite spoke for itself. More of a mauling than a bite He wanted to help but he didn't know how..

Lars was monitoring the odd pair subtly, when he looked up he saw the boy’s thin arms linked around the Alpha’s neck and the man’s head bent low over the boy. Kissing. Lovers? There was an easy almost bonded familiarity between them. There shouldn’t be. What had happened to cause a young Elite Omega to flee his Alpha and his real bond? 

“Good to see you feeling better Will.”  
The Omega’s eyes were gorgeous, a vivid inky blue shot through with silver, even blurred with exhaustion and traces of discomfort and fixed anxiously on Lars as though he could read his mind.  
“You’ll need to clean the wound thoroughly three times daily and keep it dry. Use this spray twice morning and night and finish the whole course of antibiotics. Any redness, swelling or neck pain ....come right back in”  
The Alpha nodded as though he'd be the one doing all that, which seemed to amuse the Omega.  
Lars checked the Omega’s pulse. “When are you due to go into heat next Will?” Lars asked. There was a definite change in mood the second he asked that. Interesting. Both Omega and Alpha looked tense.  
“A week.” The Omega answered. He didn’t look thrilled at the prospect. The Alpha was watching the boy intently.  
“When’s the last time you completed a knotted mating?” Lars saw the Omega flush.  
“Three months ago...almost four .” The boy answered reluctantly.  
Lars was shocked …no wonder the Omega was in so much pain…. “When you do go into heat…. if an Alpha won’t or can’t mate….”  
“Can’t!” The Alpha sounded like his manhood had been insulted.  
The Omega locked eyes with the Alpha wordlessly. Lars couldn’t read the silent communication passing between them.

“If you…. choose not to mate … then Will needs to use a knotting dildo. It has to enter the cervix “  
“Not happening.” Alan looked down as he said it and the Omega looked guilty.  
“I’m sorry …what am I missing here?” Lars asked outright.  
The Omega didn’t answer.  
“He won’t …use one.” The Alpha said flatly.

Lars didn’t ask why; he knew the shocking statistics on Elite Omega who’d been injured by an Alpha who thought they could take any degree of force when using a sex toy. “Then you need to make an appointment and bring him in. We can milk his prostrate manually and simulate the double knotting on a basic level.”  
The Omega looked less shocked than the Alpha...he'd clearly known Lars was going to suggest that. He didn't look happy about it.  
The man’s low ugly growl was a threat. “You touch him and I’ll break every bone in your fucking hand!”  
Lars took as step back as a precaution. “It’s a little uncomfortable and embarrassing but not painful. We have a Beta nurse chaperone present at all times and after he’ll feel relief.” He kept his tone professional and impersonal.  
“No he fucking won’t because you’re not bloody touching him like that!” The Alpha was losing control fast. Irrational and possessive.  
Lars stood his ground stubbornly. “Then you do it for him!”  
The Alpha’s snarl was low and savage, his eyes fixed angrily on Lars.  
The Omega boy moved, his pale hand landing on the man’s clenched fist. He hadn’t even spoken but the snarling died down. The Omega seemed completely unafraid. Lars wished he could say the same. God that Alpha was intimidating!

“We can think about it.” That was all the boy said yet the Alpha stared at him as though the boy had suddenly begun speaking in tongues.  
“Since when? When do you even think about that?". The Alpha's tone was dark and jealous. "Is that what went on…. with Hoi …every week?” The Alpha was still angrily dominant but it wasn’t directed at the Omega.  
“No….” The Omega looked away.  
“Would you tell me if it bloody was?” The Alpha said through gritted teeth.  
The Omega turned his head back carefully, moving as though his neck still hurt. There was a stillness about him that spoke of a deep reluctance to answer and a residual anger that he’d been asked at all.” You know …what happened with Hoi.” … then… “and yes…. I’d tell you.”  
The Alpha was quiet. Lars couldn’t tell if he was ashamed or apologetic.

The Omega pushed himself to sit up, weak but determined, leaning on one forearm, struggling and the Alpha was instantly there, a hand at the boy’s back supportively. It was so smoothly done that Lars took a second to notice the Omega’s subtle manipulation. The Alpha’s protective instinct was easy to play.  
“I want to go home.” The Omega was totally focused on the Alpha now. His blue eyes with their long, densely fringed lashes, wide and innocent.  
The Alpha was staring obsessively at the Omega’s soft , curved mouth.“You heard him. Can we leave?” The man demanded answers.  
Lars wondered where ‘home’ was but he knew he wouldn’t be told even if he asked. He had no reason to keep the boy here. “Of course… if that’s what Will wants? Will... you’ll need to rest, stay in the warm, no swimming or exercise until you finish the antibiotics. Any swelling or pain and you need to come back. Do you need money, help … anything?”  
“No…I’ve money.” It seemed to be a private joke between Alpha and Omega as both smiled same time. The mood had changed again fast. The Alpha had picked up the boy’s winter coat and was helping him dress. There were a lot of zippers and a row of buttons and the Alpha took his time doing every one up. Finally, he flipped the hood up and it covered the Omega’s head, the hood so oversized that his eyes were lost underneath the fur. The Alpha grinned as the Omega pushed the hood back so he could see out. “Come on up then lazy bones…I’ll carry you.”

He made lifting the Omega look effortless as the boy leant back and wrapped arms around the man’s neck. Lars walked ahead opening doors. There was an old Land Rover parked in the shadows of the wall. Once the Omega was in the passenger seat and the car door slammed the Alpha turned around, thought about it and offered his hand. “Thanks for the help. We’d both be grateful if nobody finds out we were ever here. I don’t want word getting back.”  
“You’ll think about what I said…about letting us help him before his heat?” Lars held out three leaflets and kept them there until the Alpha took them. The top one had a dildo on the cover. Lars had a feeling the Alpha trusted very few people around the Elite Omega and didn't trust Lars despite his Omega secondary gender.  
The Alpha frowned as he glanced down at it then back at the boy inside the car. “Probably not.” He admitted.  
“Try and think of what Will needs.”  
The Alpha gave a snort of laughter as though that statement was a joke. “That’s all I bloody do! If he says he wants to come in I’ll bring him.”

Lars stared at the only Elite Omega he had ever met; through the window of the car. The boy didn’t look back outside the car once. Lars wanted to ask why there was no sexual relationship between these two but the sheer size of the Alpha made him reconsider. He preferred to keep his teeth and his unbroken nose. Instead he reached into a pocket and held out a card with the clinic numbers and hours on. He pulled out a biro and wrote on the reverse side. “If you need advice … or help. Tell Will he can call anytime. My home number is on the back of the card.”  
“Aye.” The Alpha nodded as he took it and tucked in into his top pocket, his breath steaming in the freezing night air as there was a raucous explosion of shouting from the pub nearby. The man went around the driver’s side of the Land Rover, as he got into the seat he leant over and kissed the Omega on the cheek. Then he started the engine, reversed quickly out of the parking space, turned the car around and was gone.

Lars felt conflicted. The man had been difficult to deal with as Alpha’s often were but he’d showed a very different side of himself towards the teenage boy. You didn’t see that often.  
Outside the health centre Ingrid was waiting anxiously at the door, her blonde hair looking white in the yellow street light. As Lars came in she held something out in her hands. Folded money in a plastic bank money bag.  
“They left it on your desk. 200 euro.”  
Lars was surprised, realising now what that shared look about money had meant between the Alpha and Omega. It was unexpected and strange and he was thoughtful as he locked the money away in the safe with the drugs that had street value if resold.  
He would probably never meet another Elite Omega in his life. It seemed unreal already as he locked the door. Time to go home.


	23. Take A Turn Before You Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saul and John in the kitchen ....neither one of them is cooking .....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unadulterated pure Alpha on Alpha smut ....an entire update worth....I have no excuse for this....absolutely none.  
> I should be ashamed ...I'm not...  
> Plot returns in the next update I promise ........I'm going to be working a few extra shifts to make up for the wages I lost when my daughter was sick so the update won't be typed up until mid week. 
> 
> Blue...track is Don't Matter ...Kings of Leon

On the same day, at the same hour millions of separate lives are doing the exact same thing as though synchronised…be it sleeping, eating, working or beginning a new day…. but there are always those who live outside that clock based monotony.  
As a successful investigative journalist Saul Jefferson liked to think he had adapted to a life lived without a regular sleep pattern, he was used to sudden phone calls in the dark hours of the night and the need to get his brain in gear and react instantly was second nature to him. He knew the second he opened his eyes and before he rolled over and sat up, that someone was in his flat…. he also knew who.

Reaching for his mobile phone Saul checked the time routinely before sitting up…. shit, 3.00 am…. not even close to a decent hour. Saul didn’t bother with the overhead light in the en suite bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, with only the shaving light above the wash basin turned on to illuminate his tanned, gym honed body with its girdled muscles disappearing under his low slung black pyjama bottoms.  
He could clearly hear the hushed, muted sound of a voice being kept deliberately low coming from his small barely used kitchen, as he padded in bare feet along the corridor. A dark, much worn, brown leather jacket was thrown over the back of the couch and one of the lamps had been turned on. From the window Saul saw the illuminated lights of London, each punctuating the black night sky with a garish burst of neon colour.

John was leaning against the worktop, the compact kitchen lit only by the lighting from underneath the kitchen units. The fair shades of blond in his hair stood out against the dusty blue grey shirt he was wearing. When he saw Saul walk quietly into the kitchen he raised his eyebrows and mouthed the word “Sorry “ to apologise for waking the other man up, even as his hot, hazel gaze travelled unabashed down the planes of Saul’s leanly muscular body.  
Only John could make an apology sound like an invitation to fuck.  
Saul got out two glasses and poured them both a scotch. As John took his glass with a smile Saul noticed the other Alpha’s bloody, bruised knuckles and the open first aid kit behind him.

“If you’re not sure this is the time to change your mind Mycroft. Tomorrow it’ll be too late. It'll be out there.”  
Saul heard the distant sound of another male voice answering as he leant in close to kiss John’s cheek, breathing in the complex scent of the other Alpha as he did. John smelt of cold, late night air, after shave and inexplicably chips.  
“Chips again?” Saul said, checking in a low voice as he mouthed at John’s jaw close to his ear and pressed close. He could already feel the hardening swelling of John’s cock against his thigh, and Saul’s own cock was an insistent, firm, rubbing pressure between them as he let John kiss his mouth briefly before pulling his head away. He wanted rough and fast tonight.  
John obligingly tilted his neck back and allowed Saul to suck a hard, mouthful of skin but his eyes were dark and dangerous already, flashing with that fire that Saul knew meant John would never cede dominance in any real sense.

Saul tested that, biting down hard at the side of John’s exposed, clean shaven throat and John didn’t even give a hiss of pain…. his hand moved faster than Saul could follow, wide spread fingers sliding into the other Alpha’s hair low at his nape and exerting a steady tug that had Saul moving with those controlling, strong fingers, easing his head back until their eyes met. John’s heated arousal was both a warning and a promise before he simply leant forward and bit teasingly at the bone of Saul’s clefted chin before claiming his mouth. The kiss was hard and breathless, and if Saul had dominance at all; he knew all along it was because John allowed it.  
“Hang up.” Saul’s voice was a heated whisper.  
John gave him a challenging, amused stare. “Make me”...as though he thought Saul couldn’t… his voice low and smokey.

Saul wasn’t gentle as he pulled John’s shirt free of his jeans and thumbled at button after button. He bit again at John’s neck, sucking hard, mouthfuls of warm skin, as his palms pushed under John’s open shirt, claiming fiercely. There was a livid bruise just under John’s ribs, dark and purple, ugly against John’s golden skin and Saul lowered his head and tongued roughly at the notched base of John’s throat as his hands covered that dark violent stain, pushing the hungry tips of his fingers between the muscle covered bones of John’s ribs demanding a response even if it was pain …he got one ; against his own cock , trapped hard and pressed tight between their slow thrusting bodies, he felt John’s cock thicken and stiffen through the heavy , soft dark denim of John’s jeans until its solid , engorged shape was all he could think of.

John was saying something into the phone. “6 am sharp so. If you’re not there I won’t wait around. I don't have the time to fuck about."  
"Is that so... ?" Saul muttered against John's mouth as his hand snaked down and caught the hard , outline of John's stiff cock through his jeans. "Lets see about that."

As Saul undid John’s dark leather belt John watched him like a predator, hazel eyes alive with dark desire. The silver fly buttons were next and then it was Saul who almost lost it and groaned as John’s solid, uncut cock sprang free, the Alpha naked and warm skinned, commando under his jeans.  
Saul’s hand closed around John’s thick shaft and he squeezed hard and felt the answering throb of the flesh in his closed hand as John moved and leant back, moving his feet apart and taking a wider stance to be steady as Saul palmed his cock, thumb and fingers holding in a tight band that slid from base to head until all Saul’s fingers were covered in the slick pearly beads of precum leaking from John’s slitted head.  
There was a tense moment of still silence as Saul went down, kneeling before John, the Alpha’s fine dusting of short, fair pubic hair glinting gold in the light. John took several deep measured breaths before Saul’s tongue touched him, licking a wide wet stripe of desire up the underside of John’s swollen cock. Saul’s tongue reached the full, meaty shape of John’s head and found that slit, pressing over and in with lick after lick before finally his mouth closed around the Alpha and sucked his cock down and back to his throat, surrounding it with a hot, wet, pulling heat.

John’s low groan was more of a growl and Saul heard him say tersely “I have to go. Be on time tomorrow ” before the mobile phone call was abruptly ended and the phone itself thrown behind John onto the shiny, dark granite worktop.  
John’s two hands grabbed hold of the worktop edge and he let Saul throat him as hard and rough as the other Alpha needed too until John’s hips were driving his cock in faster and deeper than Saul's throat could take. Suddenly John had him tugged up and standing , span around and guided forward, head on crossed arms down on the cold worktop as he kicked Saul’s feet wider apart and yanked his pj bottoms down his firm thighs.  
“Stay there!” John’s voice was a low, lethal growl that sent shivers down the back of Saul’s neck. John thrust his hand deep into his open jeans pocket and tore open a sachet of lube with his teeth, smearing it through his fingers and over his turgid shaft before reaching around the other Alpha to catch the hard, length of his cock, pulling it brusquely through his lubed fist as John’s own thick, width pushed between Saul’s muscled thighs and nudged slickly against Saul’s perineum.

Saul trusted John but even so he gave his own low, warning growl reminding John he was an Alpha too and couldn’t take a knotted, Alpha cock inside his body. John’s strong arm slid around Saul’s body and with a yank he pulled him back hard against his strong thighs and pressed close as his palm twisted the length of Saul’s cock. The slick sound of his own cock in John’s hard grasp and the insistent, thrusting rub of John’s thick shaft over his perineum was the closest Saul could come to being fucked by John. The pushing drive of John’s hips against his arse met its match in the suction of the man’s strong capable fingers, full of lube and cock and Saul’s thighs began to shake as he tried to hold on.

“John …. fuck …. John!” Saul wasn’t going to last, John pumped him harder, rutting wildly through Saul’s strong muscled thighs.  
“Come on Saul…now! Come on!” John’s voice was a dark growl, snarled against Saul’s neck as he sucked hard at that skin and Saul felt the sharp edge of a fang scrape down his neck as he came, spurting thick and white through John’s fisted grasp. Both John’s hands dropped hard unto Saul’s muscled shoulders and held on pulling Saul’s body back to surround his cock between strong, tensely muscular thighs as John came in a rush of hot heat. Saul shuddered as he felt John splatter his balls and thrust over and over through that slicked wet skin.

When they stopped Saul felt like he could barely stand and John was panting behind him. John’s hand ran slowly down Saul’s body as they stood leaning against each other. Coming down together. Breathing loud in the still kitchen of the flat.  
“You’d better have hung up that call properly.” Saul said shakily when he had breath enough to speak, his voice rough with sated desire and he felt as well as heard John’s short genuine laugh.  
“Fucking Hell. I hope so.”


	24. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Mycroft decide on a uniquely personal way to strike back at Magnussen and open up public discussion on Elite Omega rights..
> 
> Magnussen and John talk.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Banksy inspired the art idea ...  
> TRIGGER WARNING ....this update deals in part with Mycroft's bulimia. 
> 
> Blue ...the track I played most writing this was Sail by AWOLNATION...more of a mood thing than a lyric one,

For once in his life Mycroft is glad he isn’t alone. He is sat in the backseat of his chauffeur driven car with John Watson next to him. The man exudes a solid, reliability.

The spray paint is almost certainly still tacky where the anonymous, masked artist signed his work with the six letters than comprised his pseud.  
Even though Mycroft had known to some degree what to expect; the reality of seeing a personal family photo in its new larger than life format, spray painted so incongruously on a wall in London; still came as a visceral shock to the heart he frequently claimed was unimportant to him.  
He found himself overcome with mixed emotions, remembering a past that had been simultaneously one of the most miserably lonely and yet the most physically affection, filled time in his life. He drew in a breath silently as he recalled how Sherlock would run to him and hug him round his middle impulsively with a fierce love that felt more like an assault than a hug at times.

"Well?" John asks calmly.  
“It... seems… a little surreal.”  
“Yeah? I can see why it would.” John looked at him for the first time with understanding as Mycroft was forced to clear his throat before he can speak. “He’ll remember? You’re sure?”  
John has asked this thrice now and Mycroft looks at him thoughtfully before replying. One affirmative reply should really suffice. “Of course." Mycroft’s fingers tighten around the handle of his umbrella ."Charles Magnussen is not a man who forgets anything where my brother is concerned. He was always obsessional.”  
Mycroft's voice is stiffly nauseous as he adds." He will remember John. I am certain of that. When I was signing the final papers on the morning of the ceremony he had that very framed photo in his hands."  
John is watching Mycroft's eyes , aware of the control it is taking the other man not to make any revealing response.  
Mycroft exhales slowly before adding what he must. He finds he simply cannot bring himself to repeat the exact words he had heard that day. "Magnussen made ...certain remarks...concerning Sherlock and what he would have liked to do..." Mycroft felt his stomach muscles tense in sickened disgust."Revolting remarks John.....despite my brothers age in the photograph..He did it quite deliberately John. To distress me further."

John swallowed hard and audibly before he could find his voice. “That time I met him ... at school… he said the fact that Sherlock hated him was a turn on. That Sherlock's disgust aroused him.”  
Mycroft hid his reaction well but even so he was aware John saw it. “You’ve seen the photo’s John. I have no doubt that’s true.”  
John looked up at the wall, at the other people in Sherlock's family; whose faces he had never seen before today. “You know the only family photo he had at school was one of you both. It was next to his bed on his locker.”  
Mycroft looked surprised then visibly touched. “ He hesitated. “I was a poor substitute John for the love and care of either parent. Sherlock was always so emotional, easily hurt and I thought if he …if he could only learn to control his reactions , that he would suffer less.“ He heard the tired regret in his own voice. “I failed him John. If I had been more receptive, more affectionate physically, he may have at least tried to talk with me about what was happening to him.”  
“Even if that’s true and I don’t think it is from what he told me…he loves you. When you get your second chance don’t forget that.” John's voice was bleak as he opened the car door and ducked out into the empty darkly reflective damp of the rainy street, tucking up his collar against the rain as he limped away briskly.

 

Greg Lestrade first sees the image on the early morning news as he shovels a heaped spoonful of cornflakes and low fat milk into his mouth at speed as the kettle boils and his only clean pair of socks tumble around in an otherwise empty tumble drier…. multi-tasking. He knows at once who the family is . His reaction is a broad, genuine smile. Although he has no time to call before heading out to work he fires off a quick text to John that simply says…. _Good One. _  
He gets a text back from John fast, all it says is....Hope it spoils his breakfast.__

Saul woke up to find John has already gone and the side of the bed cold and empty but he was used to that, he checked his phone and answered every text and email of importance before hitting the shower, then headed out to grab coffee and meet a contact over breakfast at a trendy Italian café in Soho. He sees the image all over the internet, on TV channel after TV channel and on the front pages of every single newspaper. He was surprised to find he felt proud of John.

Charles Magnussen first sees the image painted on the side of the building in which he owns the largest penthouse, on the very external walls of his home, when a glossy photograph of it falls out of the envelope he has just opened and lands on the table. His butler Zaman, who was serving breakfast in complete silence as instructed narrowly avoids being caught looking at the photo by a seething Magnussen .  
The low angry snarl Charles gave made Aleksander look up from his boiled egg and toast to check he hadn’t done something wrong. Table manners were very important. To the child’s puzzled relief his Fader was staring angrily down at a photo, his knuckles white.  
“Concentrate on your plate Aleksander.”  
Charles folded the newspaper with a fastidious disgust and beckoned Zaman forward. “Dispose of this.” Magnussen ordered, dropping the photograph onto Zaman’s silver tray as though it was contaminated. “See it burnt.” 

Zaman first saw the image along with the rest of Magnussen’s new household staff as they gathered around it in the kitchen talking in low voices. Dolores and Olga the housemaids' asked him what it meant and he tried to explain what street art was and what the image meant before calling the caretaker and telling him to incinerate the photograph as Magnussen had instructed. 

All over London, all over the country the artist's most recent work is headline news.

To begin with it was simply a professionally taken photo of a family group. Father, mother, three children. It should have been so normal and everyday it would barely merit a second glance. After all everyone who sees it has photographs like it at home that look very similar. Yet this spray painted image stands out, grabs the eye and the mind and holds on, because this particular family is Elite and very few ever get a glimpse into that private, secretive world.

Two men; Alpha and Omega. Bonded. The Alpha father would have been handsome, with a laughing arrogance, tanned and lean, typically English upper class but his thin, straight mouth is strictly bracketed and his hard eyes have been altered so they now stare out with the cold yellow, predatory hunger of a wolf.  
His Omega bond mate’s fragile beauty catches the eye. The younger man’s pure porcelain skin, cold blue eyes, blond hair, and the succulent ripeness of his mouth have undeniable beauty yet here too there is a discernible disconnect. A lack of focus. An absence of maternal instinct. A vacancy behind the eyes. The signs of someone mentally unwell.

Two Alpha sons. One the image of his father; stands alongside him in a pale blue, open necked shirt with the sleeves rolled up…confident to the point of arrogance, leanly muscular and clearly athletic, laughing at the lens and the photographer behind it with an amused dismissal.  
By his Omega mother’s side an auburn haired Alpha teenager in shirt and smart trousers, sits and stares appraisingly at the photographer. He is chubby and gangly, at that difficult in between stage where he has yet to grow into his own limbs and feet. He is soft bodied like his mother but any similarity ends there as he lacks either parent’s obvious good looks. He is flushed a deep awkward pink underneath his freckles as though he already suspects he is an embarrassing disappointment or has just been told so.

To his left, on the very edge of the family is another brother. Pale skinned and dark haired with a riot of glossy curls, in a change from the original photograph his face was now blurred out…this unknown child is several years younger than either Alpha brother. Skinny and delicately long limbed it can only have been an Omega . The Auburn haired boy’s arm embraces this little brother, he hugs and holds onto the small boned wrist of that anonymous outline protectively as though he alone is responsible for ensuring the child behaves well.

The Omega image as it becomes known is suddenly everywhere. It achieves iconic status within hours and crowds flock to see it, take selfies in front of it and touch the very wall it is painted on. There is a large crowd, reporters and TV crews outside the exclusive block of high end apartments when Magnussen leaves for the office in his fleet of armour plated, chauffeur driven cars.  
On TV shows that day the main topic being discussed is the sudden appearance of the street artists latest work and the shock value of this form of art that is so instantly relatable, accessible, understandable and touchable.  
Within hours of being painted it’s removed, sandblasted from the bricks amid public outcry …. but by then the message it conveyed was out there, being discussed and talked about and it had served its purpose. It provoked response. It stayed in the mind. 

John had worked a pressured, busy day dealing with patients who looked to him to solve problems far more complex than merely medical. Trying to find extra time that he didn’t really have to spare to find ways to help when a patient needed to know what to do next and being conscious of the fact that he was the only friendly face some of his elderly patients had seen all week.  
He saw the Omega image all day replicated in colour on the front page of every newspaper he saw being read by a patient and on the television screen more times than he could count, being discussed and talked about, debated and compared to the street artist’s other works. He couldn’t help but wonder if somewhere else Sherlock had seen it and worry about how the Omega could react to the unexpected shock. When his phone rang during his lunch break as he was grabbing a bacon roll in the cafeteria John expected it to be Saul, Mycroft or Greg. It was from a number he didn’t recognise.

“John Watson.” John watched the cluster of grey pigeons inches away on the hospital window sill as they jostled for position.  
“Dr Watson.”  
The accented voice waiting to hear a response was familiar but John couldn’t place it for a few seconds…then he did, abruptly and violently he knew exactly who this was. There was a flurry of explosive movement among the birds as several panicked and flew whirling into the sky.  
“How the fuck did you get this number?” John’s voice was a low snarl.  
Magnussen’s cold Elite voice sounded amused. “It would be impolite of me would it not to fail to acknowledge your little artistic gift. The correct social response is so important to you English and I always liked how Sherlock looked in that photo...so very innocent and young.”  
John gave a short, incredulously aggressive laugh. “So Mycroft told me…I hadn’t realized your twisted urges ran to children though nothing surprises me about you any more. There’s no need to thank me, I don’t give a toss for your so called manners. I’m more interested to find out what Sherlock thought…” John made it sound as though he was going to get the chance to find out, leaving Magnussen with the idea that John was in contact with Sherlock.

There was a sharper, possessively jealous edge to Magnussen’s tone that John felt glad he’d put there. “You would do well to remember whose Omega Sherlock is.”  
John leant back and tapped hard on the glass watching as every remaining bird flew up. “I’ve seen what you’ve done. You raped him, you beat him, you forced him to carry your child. How many times did he try to die to get away from your sick touch? Does no part of you feel shame at how far he was prepared to go to escape from you?” John’s contempt was open.  
Magnussen’s snarl was ugly. “When I get him back John Watson …and I will make no mistake about that…he'll pay for every moment of so called happiness he has stolen. I gave him too much freedom before …this time I will make sure the only face Sherlock's sees is mine and our son’s for the rest of his life and I will enjoy him John so many times, ball deep in that tight little hole of his. If you thought he suffered before it will nothing compared to what will happen now."

There was silence then John spoke, his voice full of a sure conviction. “You keep telling yourself that. You will lose and when you do you’ll have to live with the knowledge that you’ll never get to be in the same room as Sherlock ever again. You keep your sick rape fantasies because that’s all you’re going to have to get you hard. Me? I get to talk to him again, I get to be in the same room, I get to give him a hug if he needs one. I get to be his friend. I get to be somebody he trusts and cares about. I'll even get to meet your son when Sherlock does, maybe we’ll take him out to the park together. Think on that you perverted Omega rapist and fuck off!”

Mycroft finds himself distracted through out the endless meetings of his day by the knowledge that something so private and personal has been seen by so many people even though John’s initial suggestion that they use a family photograph Magnussen would recognise was one he agreed with almost instantly. The day is long and dreary and Sherlock doesn’t call.  
Mycroft watches the hours vanish until finally he is back at home, sitting alone in his study looking at the original photograph in its red leather frame. The faces haunt him and he finds himself sitting there, deep in thought, long after he could have gone up to bed.

Siger intended it to be a flawless portrait of his perfect Elite family. They were never that.

Mycroft knows of course whose face is behind the blurred outline, who exactly is still alive yet missing from that group, who is still missing years later. He remembers that day as though it was yesterday but he has no way of asking Sherlock if he has his own memories of that day. He has no way of knowing if his brother has even seen the image. He has had no contact with Sherlock for a very long time now and he is hampered from searching more aggressively by the fear that somehow any clues he does garner; risk leading Magnussen to Sherlock.

Mycroft eyes narrow as he looks at Sherringford, the faultless son and heir…. a spiteful and difficult brother with a liking for anything that made Sherlock cry... teasing, pinching, cruelty to the pet Sherlock adored. Sherringford had always made Father proud without even needing to try…the same streak of cruelty ran through both Father and son, to Siger it was a sign of Alpha dominance.  
Mycroft looked at his younger, bookish self and admitted to feeling the same vague sense of unfairness that he always had. In a family of strikingly lean, attractive people it was painful to be born plain and overweight.  
Sherlock had never lacked physical beauty, even as a child he was charming. Mycroft drank a mouthful of brandy as he recalled how the photographer, who was well known for his portraits of the Royal family and was himself a Lord and Elite, had stroked Sherlock’s hair as though he was some pet to be fondled instead of a child who disliked the touch of strangers. Mummy hadn’t cared to intervene, too busy sneaking pill after pill and washing them down with sips of vodka until his eyes were lifeless and his mind incapable of focus. Mycroft wincing each time Mummy’s laughter was too loud.  
Mycroft had never forgotten the innocent, worried emotion in Sherlock’s eyes when Father and Sherringford spoke about the revolting embarrassment that Mycroft’s weight and shape was causing the family. Belittling and criticising, mocking and teasing until he excused himself and vomited up breakfast secretly in the toilet with two fingers so deeply down his throat it hurt. Only Sherlock had cared enough to notice the sign's, asking quietly in his soft voice…” Are you sick again Mycroft?”  
  
Sherlock was nine and already he could deduce anyone Mycroft pointed out, limited only by a childish lack of comprehension about the adult world and it's frequently corrupt hidden motivations.  
Nothing Sherlock did was of interest to Siger who showed no pride in any of the signs of gifted, prodigious intelligence or natural talents his Omega son showed. To Father Sherlock was little more than a thorough bred, only important because of his prospective beauty and the ways in which it could be used to the Alpha's own advantage. Sometimes the way Siger watched Sherlock as though he already saw how the child would look, made Mycroft profoundly uneasy.

Mycroft looked down at the photograph again and saw the lonely weight of worry in his 16 year old face, all the stress hidden behind his comfort eating and binging. He saw the anxious love in his own eyes as he watched over Sherlock with a sad, lonely, possessive care. Aware even then that he had to do it because if he didn’t love and protect Sherlock then nobody else in the family would.


	25. Certain Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riddick and Sherlock inch closer slowly....certain things both have done are causing problems....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The track is called Certain Things it's by James Arthur (feat Chasing Grace )
> 
>  
> 
> Trigger warning ....there are some non graphic flashbacks that may still trigger.

Alan was sure he was losing his mind. This couldn't end well.

If he’d been asked Riddick would have said that for an Alpha he had a lower sex drive, he was never one of those who thought that any hole and a bare word of consent would do, he cared as much about the bond and the love as he ever did the sexual release.  
He was rattled to find that wasn’t 100% true. Not only did he think about fucking Sherlock all the time, it was becoming impossible to think about anything else.

One week before Sherlock’s heat and Alan was on edge, driven by sexual urges that were explicit and graphic. He wanted the boy desperately.

He woke hard and aching every morning in a scented shared bed that smelt like heaven. He had to make sure Sherlock showered first so he could deal with it.  
Riddick tried not to remember how pale and perfect Sherlock looked naked when he masturbated but he masturbated a lot. He had his cock out whenever Sherlock was taking his turn in the shower, pumping his shaft roughly through his palm. Worse he was sure the Omega had guessed that’s what he was doing.

He watched Sherlock’s soft lips as the boy ate and the movement of the Omega’s slim throat as he tilted his head back and drank left Alan speechless.  
All through his day Alan watched those long, graceful limbs and breathed unevenly through the desire that had him by the heart. He lost time staring at the the lad's arched hands and long , fast moving fingers and didn’t hear whole tracts of speech between them; unable to look away from the leggy, lean muscle of Sherlock’s thighs in a pair of jeans when he walked ahead along a snowy trail or fixated on the sharp, slim shape of the boy’s hips under his pajama bottoms as he lay on the rug.

Alan liked sharing his home with Sherlock. The Omega was quiet and thoughtful. He had this easy grace to everything he did that was beautiful, like watching a cat.

The sight of Sherlock's slim shape curled up on his side of the double bed felt homely. It felt right. Bonded almost.

Riddick knew he shouldn’t be kissing Sherlock in bed every night but he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t. The ripe curve of Sherlock’s pink lips made him weak. The sight of Sherlock’s vividly inky, blue eyes and beautiful face looking down at him made Alan’s heart race the blood through every artery in his body.  
They kissed like lovers now, Alan’s tongue lost in the perfect sweetness of Sherlock’s mouth. Sherlock broke away less and less. He kissed with a gentle, sweet care that Alan prayed was love. It killed Alan not to try and touch beyond the kiss.

Sherlock had no idea what he was doing to Alan. How could he. The boy couldn't know how it felt to kiss him.  
Despite everything he'd been through the boy was still so innocent. Soft and gentle. Alan didn't want to see Sherlock hurt ever again. All the times he'd failed to protect the lad from harm haunted him with sharp shame. This one time Alan had caught Sherlock round his waist from behind and lifted him through Magnussen's bedroom door as Sherlock fought not to go inside and caught at the door frame with his hands , saying no, pleading, replayed in Alan's head on a loop and made him miserable with guilt. 

They were days away from Sherlock’s next heat and Alan already wanted to beg.

 

Sherlock thought he was past confusion and into the realms of insanity. That couldn’t end well.

He still didn’t want to be fucked but he couldn’t stop thinking about it happening and sometimes he saw images of them both naked in his mind.

One week before his heat and his body was trying to tell him there was an Alpha here who wanted him.

He never got to talk to Alan any more without monitoring how often and for how long the Alpha zoned out to stare desperately at Sherlock’s mouth. He could turn Alan on just by licking his lips after a buttery slice of toast. He could make Alan suck in sharp aroused mouthfuls of air with a smile. 

Every morning he watched the door as he showered in case it opened, ready to shout… get out! He knew what Alan was doing in the bed they shared. He made sure Alan had enough time to finish before he turned off the shower. He could smell Alpha semen every time he came back into the bedroom and Alan’s guilty face gave him away.

Sherlock never touched his own cock again since that forced orgasm with Charles in the circle of Alpha...he hadn't come since then outside of a heat and that didn't count. Inside his mind a moving picture stream of all the filthy things Sherlock had done lay in wait to ambush him. He couldn't shut the images off , he couldn't stop hearing the sounds he'd made even when remembering made him sick.

When Riddick was in the shower Sherlock rolled over onto his belly, pressed his nose into Alan’s pillow and breathed in the man’s scent. Sometimes he did the same thing during the day, laying on his back on the bed with the singlet Alan had worn to bed covering his whole face. Once Alan had opened the bedroom door and he must have seen what Sherlock was doing but the Omega had barely had time to freeze in awkward embarrassment before Alan had backed out fast.

Sherlock liked watching Alan shave from the safety of the open bathroom door, leaning against the wooden frame and talking about anything randomly to give him a justification for being there. Seeing how many times Alan’s eyes watched him back in the mirror.  
He hid how many times he watched Alan work out through the kitchen window under the pretence of making tea.. He liked the fierce drive of Alan’s body and the play of muscles under Riddick’s clothes as Alan did circuit training.

The sight of Alan’s socked feet up on the bed felt homely. Comfortable. Like they were a couple.

He still had never seen Alan naked but Sherlock had thought about what the Alpha's body was like even if he was too scared to open his eyes and see. He’d looked at the bulge of Alan’s cock under his jeans more than once when Alan wouldn't see and then got angry with himself for being the whore that Charles said he was. He’d never looked at Charles body. Not once.

They kissed. Sherlock leaning over Alan’s still body, pushing the Alpha down with the weight of his slim body and thin insistent arms..  
Alan kissed back, his tongue in Sherlock’s mouth …. if Sherlock broke the kiss the Alpha’s eyes were dark and desperate. If Sherlock didn’t break away he could make Alan growl, a low rumble of sexual need under Riddick’s every breath.

Sherlock knew he pushed blindly past every limit Alan tried to set despite knowing Alan didn’t want to lose control. He knew Alan set the limits to protect him. He was never going to let Alan leave him. He was ashamed of the small ways in which he already manipulated Alan but he couldn’t stop doing it. Alan had to love him. He had to be sure nobody else was going to take Alan away from him.

They were days away from Sherlock’s heat and he didn’t want it to happen.


	26. Randomly and Inexplicably

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Greg stand around a pond, dodge the goose shit with varying degrees of success and talk.  
> A few secrets get revealed....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK its a double update day. I've been typing like crazy.  
> There's a hint of Mystrade here ......

Greg was pleased to spot some early spring flowers just after Christmas. London was wet, grimy and grey. Apart from a few hardy or crazy joggers and the odd nanny with a posh pram the park was empty.

The man Greg had come to see was stood looking out over the bleak, circular pond, avoiding the Canada geese shit that Greg had already managed to step in …twice. Wiping his shoe on the damp grass Greg hoped Mycroft didn’t notice.  
Now he knew to look for them he could spot three agents looking after Mycroft discretely.

“Gregory, thank you for coming.” Mycroft’s gaze moved unerringly to Greg’s shoes.  
“Bugger it, “Greg said with a wry smile. “You can’t have noticed me step in it, you had your back to me for pity’s sake.”  
“So I did but the fresh grass stain is rather revealing.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

That wasn’t the only revealing sign. Now they were face to face Greg was shocked to see how exhausted Mycroft looked. There was a genuine pallor to the Elite Alpha’s skin that hadn’t been there the last time they’d met at the Café Royal.  
Mycroft waited patiently while Greg completed his inventory. He did realise he was showing some signs of the stress he was battling against but he had hoped his new shirt and carefully chosen burgundy tie had enlivened his complexion to some degree. It appeared he may have been overly hopeful in that assumption.

“You look terrible. Are you sleeping at all? Eating?”  
Greg was blunt, honest and straight to the point, Mycroft found it a relief after the studied, cautious conversations of those who tried to give away nothing and those who feared the acuity of his deductions.  
“Sherlock’s heat is due next week. “

“You’ve still heard nothing? What the Hell is he playing at?” Greg was angry on Mycroft’s behalf.  
Mycroft traced a straight line along in front of his brown leather shoe with the metal prong on the top of his gentleman’s black silk umbrella. “That would strongly depend on whose perspective you are questioning.”  
“It’s Alan Riddick calling the shots isn’t it?” Greg watched the stillness of Mycroft’s eyes. “You think it’s your brother who doesn’t want to call? Don’t you?”  
Mycroft acquiesced with a tight nod. “I have to believe that Sherlock would find a way if he truly wished to. I know my brother’s ingenuity.”

Greg gave a heartfelt sigh and bit the bullet. “Did you ever stop punishing yourself long enough to think that maybe it’s less to do with rejecting you as a brother and more about feeling safe where he is?”  
“Safe!” The detonation was more muted than Greg had expected from an Alpha and an Elite one at that. “Sherlock may be many things with Alan Riddick but safe is most assuredly not one of them!”

Greg looked at the agent nearest to them and moved so he could talk without his lips being read. “I once worked a case, a teenage Omega ran away with his teacher. We tracked the man down to a holiday caravan in Devon, they’d been cooped up inside there for weeks, scared they’d be spotted and identified. Thing is …the Alpha hadn’t touched the boy. Not once. And he was close to heat. Not everyone is a rapist.”

Mycroft’s sharp stare was fixed on Greg’ s honest face. “And the Omega, was he pleased to be returned to his family?”  
“Nope,” Greg said ironically. “He screamed the caravan down, had to be carried out feet first and gobbed right in the face of one of the local boys in blue!”  
“Gobbed?” Mycroft pronounced the coarse word precisely.  
“Spat on. To Gob. “Greg said succinctly.” It’s an occupational hazard, part of the job.”  
Mycroft looked scandalized. “Did the Omega say why he ran away?”  
“Too much pressure, parents worked long hours and paid him no attention. He was lonely and along came Mr Alpha Teacher with all the time in the world to listen and talk. It’s typical except in most cases we never find them alive after the first few hours.”  
Mycroft inhaled sharply.  
Greg had never put his foot in it so badly before. “I didn’t mean…”  
What little colour there was had drained from Mycroft’s thin face. “I’d be lying if I said that same thought hadn’t already crossed my mind Gregory. If Sherlock resisted sexually or if Alan was too forceful. Accidents can happen…”  
“No. “Greg spoke as though he was sure. “You said yourself Sherlock wouldn’t fight it if it came to that. It’s the silence that’s making you doubt yourself now.”  
“I could be wrong.” Mycroft’s voice was flatly controlled and Greg knew that meant the man was beset with troubling emotions.

“You could be. So could John. I don’t think I am though. Any Alpha who looks at an Omega like that man does at your brother isn’t after a quick shag. It’s a look you don’t get to see much as an Omega.” Greg had Mycroft’s full focused attention now. “That man is in love.”  
“Then it would appear Sherlock has one admirer too many….” Mycroft’s tone held a resigned curiosity. “John Watson has that exact same look whenever he sees my brother in a photograph….”

Greg wasn’t surprised Mycroft had noticed. John had given himself away too many times around a man who missed nothing. “John knows he can’t just pick up where they left off...he can’t help how he feels.” Greg was unhappy discussing John’s heart; he knew all along that John said he had only loved one Omega. He felt disloyal.

Mycroft touched Greg’s arm, his leather gloved hand a firm, comforting pressure. “I already followed that deduction to its source Gregory. You had a relationship with John Watson?”  
“I did…” Greg admitted it. No point in doing anything else. “It could have been more than it became. It never did.”  
Mycroft’s hand was still around Greg’s arm, it kept Greg in the here and now. “Because…?” He pried gently.  
Greg knew why even though John had never said it. “Because he’s still in love with your brother.”

Mycroft nodded. “Emotional entanglements.” The words were said kindly but with no sense of any past personal history.  
Greg looked and made his own deductions. “You don’t? “  
“I never have.” The wind lifted Mycroft’s hair and Greg saw like a revelation the man behind the formality. The life of loneliness.  
“Never say never. Isn’t that what they say?” Greg made a quip of it in case.  
Mycroft looked at the black fingers of his glove on the beige sleeve of Greg’s padded jacket. He let go carefully. “That is the expression I believe.”  
“You deserve to be happy.” Greg said it in a rush.

“Do I?” Mycroft gestured to one of the agents with a sideways swing of his umbrella by its handle. The man stood up and began walking down the path towards them. Mycroft watched him coming closer. “Thank you for your company this morning Gregory.” The Elite Alpha paused. “And for the good intentions.  
My personal number may have been added to your list of contacts quite randomly and inexplicably.” Mycroft looked away as he said it, down at the bone handle of his umbrella as he rotated it in a tight circle on the concrete.  
Greg smiled. “ I may send you the odd text then…randomly and …?”  
“Inexplicably?” Mycroft looked up. “ That would be most welcome.”


	27. School Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds out he isn't the only Alpha with an interest in seeing Sherlock's son.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is flawed ...this is a peek at Mycroft's flaws.

John stood with in the busy, white stucco garden square with his back to the black painted , cast iron railings of it's central garden full of plane trees, and watched the expensive cars slowing down, looking for a parking spot and pulling over. Nanny after nanny; several accompanied by burly bodyguards, climbed the steps and vanished inside one of the ornately stuccoed white houses , that looked oddly like iced wedding cakes, emerging holding the hands of a selection of small boys. The brass plate on the wall named the school as the same one the Royal Prince attended..

The children leaving were all wearing dark green blazers, grey caps , a grey shirt, green and grey striped school ties , darker grey knee shorts, grey woollen knee socks and brown leather T-bar sandals. John supposed it was a typical private school uniform but it looked a bit poncey compared to the standard store bought navy tracksuit John had worn to his first infant school.

John watched each child, looking for one who had the right golden hair and blue eyes.

An expensive black car with tinted windows drove slowly down the street and pulled up in front of John. His mobile buzzed and he glanced at the screen. The text read…Get into the car John. MH.  
Inside the spacious back seat there was a rich smell of cream leather and the car seats were as comfortable and spacious as armchairs.  
“Mycroft….small world.”  
“ Hello John.” Mycroft Holmes sat watching the school door. He acknowledged John’s presence mere inches away in the back seat of his BMW without turning his head.  
“There John…the boy walking between the two bodyguards.”  
John turned his head and recognised the child instantly. The bright golden hair was distinctive. It shone against the bottle green blazer with its school crest.  
Sherlock’s son….  
The boy was carrying a rolled up painting secured with an elastic band, John could make out some of its bright, primary colours, the paint looked very thickly applied.  
There was a bright blue sticking plaster on the child’s knee.

John stared. The child was right beside Mycroft’s car now; on the pavement directly outside the tinted windows. Unaware he was being watched.  
John could see how intensely blue his eyes were.  
Aleksander hopped from foot to foot sideways as one of the bodyguards’ opened the rear door of a black Volvo XC90 people carrier. The bodyguards scanned the street constantly as the child clambered into an empty booster seat .  
The car door shut and the car pulled out into the first gap in the heavy traffic and was gone. It was closely followed by a second car.

“ That’s a lot of hired muscle to safeguard one small boy,” John said .  
“Indeed.” Mycroft said thoughtfully.  
Mycroft watched the car disappear from sight before turning in his seat to look directly at John for the first time since the other Alpha had got into the car.  
John took a good look at him in return.

“Why are you here John?” Mycroft asked. He looked exhausted.  
John paused before admitting honestly ,“ I didn’t want the first time I saw him in person to be when Sherlock was home. “  
Mycroft’s dispassionate , tired eyes scanned John’s. Finally he spoke. “ My motivations …were... similar .”  
John couldn’t define what emotion he was hearing hidden behind the polite , upper class veneer of Mycroft’s impeccable manners. “ I’d seen photographs of him” John confessed.  
“ He resembles Charles Magnussen almost wholly. “ Mycroft spoke with a flattened , weary disdain. “ I see nothing of Sherlock in him.”

And there it was, that hidden emotion John had picked up on... laid very bare.  
“You don’t like the child?”  
“Don’t be absurd John . I have no personal feelings of antipathy towards him. He is after all an infant.” Mycroft’s accent was glacial.  
John was even surer now that he was right. He stopped to think before he spoke. “ Even if he doesn’t look like Sherlock he still has Sherlock’s DNA , he’s still his son.”  
Mycroft’s sigh was barely audible. “ I am aware of the genetics involved John.”  
“ Sorry, occupational hazard of being a Doctor …stating the obvious.Then what is it?” John asked. ”Why were you here today?”  
Mycroft’s fingers went to his shirt cuff and to his vintage ,mother of pearl Asprey’s cuff-links. “ I come here daily. You know how prescient Sherlock is John. If I am to stand the slightest chance of deceiving him where the child is concerned then I will require the ability to hide my true thoughts on the subject. A degree of familiarity with the reality is necessary.”  
John was shocked.

“Of course I understand the child itself is not to blame for the circumstances of his…. conception… but however aware of that I am , my thought processes remain the same. It would be far better if this one child out of many had never been born….”  
“Better for who?” John’s anger was defensive on Sherlock’s behalf. “You can’t know what relationship there is between them? Sherlock’s his mother for Christ’s sake.…”  
The rejection in Mycroft’s eyes was all too clear. “….Not by choice.”  
John paused before he said anything more. There was a acknowledgement of guilt in Mycroft’s eyes. “ Look ….I know this has to be hard. I know you must wish none of this had happened, of course you do…but it has. Everything you’ve seen that shit Magnussen do to Sherlock that’s been the reality of Sherlock’s life for years…it’s natural you hate Magnussen…but.. this… this is a little boy Mycroft and, like it or not , he is Sherlock’s son. He has the right to be with his mother.”

Mycroft looked pale. “ Sherlock never wanted children John…”  
John heard the brotherly, protectiveness in Mycroft’s tone. “ He was barely more than a child when he said that. People change when they become parents , I see it all the time. Kids you’d think would never have the maturity end up being good parents…. If Sherlock does want to try and do this then shouldn’t we help him ?”

Mycroft stared absently past John’s head at the school Aleksander attended. “ As long as this Elite Alpha child remains in Sherlock’s life how can my brother ever move on John? Lets not be naive , Charles Magnussen is the boy’s father! He may look innocent now but I can assure you given a few years that child will have matured into the most revolting , cruelly bigoted, bullying dominant you will ever meet.” There was a detached consideration behind the words.  
“You sound like you wish he was dead.” John was rarely appalled but he was now.  
“No John…merely that he had never been born…This product of rape…how can Sherlock look at him and not see Charles Magnussen? The face shape, the eye colour, the mouth…all are that man’s exact replica!” Disgust coloured every word.

John wasn’t sure afterwards if it was the mention of Sherlock’s rape in that context that pushed him over the edge or if it was sorrow ... that Sherlock could finally get to come home ,only to find himself judged because of the cruelty of his Alpha.  
His reply was filled with a bitterness. “ Hating a child wont undo any of that. Sherlock will still have been raped and abused. All you will do is add more shame and guilt . Is that what you want? To twist the knife?”

Mycroft’s eyes were steady but John was aware of the monumental effort it was taking the Elite Alpha to make them so. A muscle at the side of Mycroft’s mouth twitched. “ I cannot , I will not , be able to accept this child John.” He sounded certain.  
“You’ve never even met him. You haven't given him a chance.”  
Mycroft’s mouth showed revulsion at the very idea. “ I’ve seen him several times.”  
John’s hand was a fist. “ You’re not even hearing me are you?”  
“ I …can …support my brother…I cannot be more involved than that…even for Sherlock. This child is not and never will be a Holmes; as far as I am concerned.”

John needed to get out of this car before he broke Mycroft’s patrician nose. “ Sherlock isn’t stupid. He’ll work you out and what happens then? When he realises his own brother is so sickened by the knowledge he had a son conceived from rape that he can’t even speak to the child? I wont let you do this to him, he’s been through enough!  
He's only a child Mycroft , he has no idea of the things his father has done! You saw him!” John threw wide the car door and bent down to snarl a last retort. “ If you were any class of a brother then you’d do whatever it took to change your thinking …so you can be there for Sherlock. Everything you saw …all the sick shit…that’s all inside Sherlock’s head and the last thing he bloody needs is anyone he loves making him feel worse. Get off your backside and get some help…talk to someone….because if you do this to Sherlock, I swear to God he will be devastated. You have no right to do that to him!”

The violent slam of the car door turned heads but John didn’t give a fuck. He couldn’t stand to be here a moment longer.  
As he limped angrily away all John could see was the child’s dimpled hands clutching the painting so tightly the paper had crumpled.  
John had waited years for this…to see Sherlock home and safe and now Sherlock had been alone with another unbonded Alpha for months and God knows what he now was with that man. The boy he’d known had been brutalised… had a child…had been pregnant several times …. it was all all wrong…it wasn’t how it was meant to be …it was painful…raw. If John felt that as harshly as he did then God knows how Sherlock was feeling!

John pulled out his phone and punched blindly at a all too familiar number.  
“Greg Lestrade…”  
John took a deep shaky breath in and blew it out slow. “Greg…its all a monumental fuck up… fucking Hell!”  
“John? Its alright. Take a breath. Slow down. Where are you?”  
“Outside the 7-11 on Queensway. “  
“I’ll be right there. Ten minutes.”  
John looked up at the sky and waited. Staring blindly at the London sky.  
Ten minutes later a yellow and white Police car pulled up … and he’d never been so pleased to see Greg’s open , trustworthy face in his life.


	28. Come Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is still the small matter of a metal door in between them and Sherlock is in heat....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BlueTrasno...the track is Move Together by James Bay.
> 
> What Sherlock says in Danish...  
> Er du sindssyg?....Are you crazy?

It may make no scientific sense but anyone knows pain has sharper claws in the dark , still hours just before dawn when time feels like it runs slow.

Sherlock could hear his own disordered, exhausted breathing.There was a panicked edge behind his every breathless gasp ; racked by the cramping emptiness and the twisting internal spasms that had him down on the floor; on his knees and elbows, rocking hopelessly... His body hurts him... urging him to find the knot it needs, it pulls him open and stretches him apart inside, hollow and wet with wasted slick. 

Alan’s guttural groan, from just the other side of the locked and padlocked door, as he comes again is agonised . Sherlock can scent the Alpha’s release, bitter and sharply male and for a few hard seconds he can’t think as his womb convulses with need.

There is a loud thump as Alan slumps against the metal door. Sherlock can hear his heavy breathing.  
“Any time you want to open the door lad...” Alan’s joke was interrupted by a pained string of desperate gasping….” I should warn you though, I think I can only get it up... a few hundred times more ...before it breaks off….”  
Sherlock didn’t even know why he was laughing, because it really wasn’t funny that Alan was hurt, but at the same time it was and laughing felt stupidly like its own release.  
“ Er du sindssyg?....Ahh!” Sherlock twisted onto his side facing the door as his body opened and another hot wet rush of slick covered the tops of his thighs. “OW! OW fucking ..OW!” The scent of fresh slick was everywhere.  
He could hear Alan’s head banging against the cold, white metal on his side of the door, aroused again … ”Fuck!” Alan's voice was hoarse.

The smell of the Alpha’s seed was so densely heavy that Sherlock could barely breathe without tasting it on the roof of his mouth.  
“You smell bloody unreal lad. Just wanted you to know....beautiful.”  
“Ha!” Sherlock writhed, his body spasming ; trying stupidly to close and lock around a knot that wasn’t there. The gushing, saturating wetness running down his bare skin made him light headed and dizzy.

This time Alan gave a raw cry. “Fucking shaft full of glass…that’s what this bastard feels like.” Sherlock could hear the pain flooding the Alpha’s voice. The desperate need .“What’s yours feel like?”  
Sherlock was on his knees now, leaning against the door with both arms, forehead pressed to the wood.... unable to answer, so hard he couldn’t speak. Panting the words out…” Did… you... just ask…. about my cock?” Alan was drinking heavily ; Sherlock could smell alcohol among the semen.  
“When …you say it…like that …it sounds…” Alan grunted the words out.  
“Weird?” Sherlock gasped. " Perverted?"  
“I was going to say…hot.” Alan’s short laugh was edged with crazed despair. 

“I think I’m bleeding…unless come can be pink?”  
Sherlock could hear the worry in Alan’s voice. He didn’t touch his own cock when he rocked his hips to thrust against the knot that should be there , fingers running over the taut, tight, flatness of his perineum until they were wet with silken slick .  
“I think it’s from my foreskin…you think it can be that?” Alan was fretting. Fretting and still masturbating hard  
Insane.  
Sherlock was thrusting faster into thin air. Open wide. Breath panting. “I don’t know… idiot… I can’t see …there’s a… stupid door… in the way!”  
Alan’s laugh ended in a hoarse, sore sound as he squeezed both hands hard around his own knot and tried to hold it back and contain it as it swelled. “Yeah?... Sorry about that ... losing my bloody mind here!”

Sherlock sank back as he held three fingers steady…he couldn’t help the moaning cry he gave as his body sucked round them hungrily. He was fucking all three in seconds , wetly open, hard and fierce…..couldn’t stop, couldn’t speak…knees wide, thighs shaking , closing his eyes against the whorish reality. His body opened and gaped and even the curl of his fingers, knotted into each other as he pushed down couldn’t make it be enough. 

Panted breathing. Black edges. Blurred sounds. Instinct.

Alan was cursing , a urgent, repetitive stream of ‘fuck’ as he came again, ejaculating through the pain.  
Sherlock’s body pulled up hard around nothing as he shuddered and shook. No hot, heavily saturating , pulsing Alpha heat inside him to soothe the pain. Slick was between his fingers, wet in his palm as he pulled his hand away, sobbing at the empty ache that was his womb.

Collapsing sideways , legs too weak to hold him, falling back into the mess of blankets and pillows he’d heaped on the floor, back against the door. The room was spinning. His mind was lost. Pulse racing, heart pounding.  
The touch of warm , broad fingers on the cold bare skin of his shoulder made him jump. Sherlock flinched violently away.  
“ Sorry!… Sorry lad…you went quiet... I worry.”  
Alan’s hand was flat on the floorboards now, pushed through the gap, cut into the kick plate of the door, his palm lay open facing upwards, hiding nothing.

Sherlock rolled weakly over, face against Riddick’s open hand as it lay on the floor. Breathing slow , scenting Alan’s skin through his open mouth. The wet tentative , curious slide of Sherlock’s tongue between his fingers made Alan thump repeatedly on the door with the back of his skull. Sherlock paused until Riddick was still then slid his mouth over Alan’s thumb , soft parted lips sucking the lingering taste of the Alpha’s come and cock over his tongue.  
“Oh fuck !… Fuck yeah…don’t stop that…!”  
Sherlock could hear the rough rub of Riddick’s lubed palm round his engorged cock…that wet slide as Alan threw his head back chanting, “Let me have you love…....let me.” Like a mantra.  
A twist of his head and Sherlock was sucking at the fleshy mound of Alan’s palm just under his thumb, fingers wet with slick locking with Alan’s. Breathing slowly into Riddick’s palm as Alan's warm, broad finger tips stroked his face … Sherlock's lips feel hot and humid against that warm , dry skin , tongue tracing that hint of cock as the man’s whole arm shook.

“Let me?"…Oh Christ, never mind that !… "Sherlock…. give me your fingers…. the ones you had…. inside.”  
Sherlock rolled over onto his back , he moved his wet hand carefully, laying it loosely over Alan’s and letting the Alpha pull his hand slowly away towards the door and underneath to the other side… laying still , panting as Alan met Sherlock's hand with a kiss.  
"Don't bite me! Alan...please!"  
"Won't...it's ok..."  
Sherlock looked away from the door and fought down the urge to panic, dreading the pain of a bite, as the heat of Riddick’s mouth covered his three slick filled fingers.... the wet, suckling strength of the Alpha's mouth was intense.  
Alan was growling, his palate vibrating against Sherlock’s slim fingers as the Omega stroked his tongue with gentle fingertips.  
There was a lurching movement as Alan moved his body so he could thrust…. throating Sherlock's long fingers as his strong thighs and tensely muscled arse drove his cock into his clenched fist.  
Sherlock’s pale , slim cock was pulsing , hard and untouched. Slick filled the taut curve of his arse. He was so close to giving in.....

“ I’d suck you,” Alan gasped the panted words out against Sherlock’s palm, desperately….against the taste of slick, against the wet palm lines of fate….“till you filled my mouth.…”  
Sherlock’s hand was on his cock now , touching frantically.. Looking at twisted sheets .The wrecked bed. Face turned away from the door. Writhing bare on the floor .

Alan clung onto his hand , his open mouth covered Sherlock’s scarred wrist, sucking at jagged , white scars and blue, delicate veins.  
The needle points of his fangs dug sharply over and under his tongue, scraping until he tasted blood. Alan's jaw was aching, ready to bite and bond and claim.  
The harsh snarls of Riddick's lust were caught in Sherlock’s empty palm like a gift.

Riddick dropped Sherlock's hand and groaned using both his fists to catch at his cock, trying to lock it round, holding as hard as he could as his knot throbbed and the skin stretched until it burnt.  
A sudden rush of Alpha semen filled the air and Sherlock’s wild cry was pure and high, as finally he broke , closing his hand round his cock and fisting it hard base to head, palm and long fingers twisting,...dominated and overwhelmed by Riddick's snarled Alpha roar of denied possession.  
Come sprayed its arc up through the air like a shooting star as everything went dark.

When Sherlock came around it hurt to move. Outside the door in the living room he could hear the muted sounds of Riddick stirring. Sherlock's body was cold, wet and naked in the grey morning light. His skin looked bluish....bruised....like Charles used to leave him . Both thighs were fallen wide . His cock lay soft and vulnerable.  
Sherlock pulled the blankets up so he didn’t have to see it anymore.


	29. The Truth Makes For Painful Listening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Alan go from talking to arguing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alan uses a word... 'owt...it's Northern English dialect and it means 'anything '.
> 
> BlueTrasno ...thanks for the track rec...Elastic Heart by Sia is perfect!

The day following a heat that wasn’t shared held its own quiet nervousness.  
Sure there was that awkward shame covering some of the things you'd said…a vague uncomfortable sense that much more than you ever meant to reveal had been laid embarrassingly bare but at the same time Alan had a physical feeling of total calm under the aching tenderness of a sore body. It was the only time he could be around Sherlock without wanting any more than just company.

Alan slouched on the couch with his socked feet on the edge of the stone slab the wood log burning stove stood on and Sherlock sat on the rough floor boards despite Alan warning him he’d get “splinters in your arse!”  
Alan said the way it was after Sherlock's heat was much like the feeling of mental exhaustion that followed his SAS selection. ”Your body aches, your mind’s a bit fucking raw around the edges from the drill sergeant’s yelling at you to ‘shift your lazy arse you ugly slackers…’ but if you did good and didn’t let yourself or your mates down there’s a pride in that that bonds all of you closer. You know… lifetime friends.” Alan’s tone was thoughtful.  
“I don’t…know.” Sherlock said it softly but Riddick looked at him sharply anyway. Sherlock shifted, staring into the red embers with their white ash. “You know I don’t have friends.”  
“You have me don’t you?” Alan’s voice was kind.

Sherlock moved to choose a log from the wood basket. “Is that what we are?...Friends?”  
“You saying we’re not?” Riddick’s voice was flat. Worried.  
“You call me love at least three times every day…unless that’s an army thing....”  
Alan burst out laughing.” I bloody well hope not, most of them were ugly sods only a mother would kiss!”  
Sherlock concentrated on placing the log. It crackled and spat sparks. “They can’t all have been…ugly?”  
“Alpha’s though lad. Hairy fuckers with stinking feet and gas.” Alan smirked.  
Sherlock pulled a disgusted face. "They have women soldiers don’t they?”  
“ Those were the women ..." Alan joked before answering.... "Not in the SAS lad.” Riddick yawned widely. Sherlock noticed the classic diversionary move, the suggestion of tiredness, providing a reason to use in case the subject needed changing . “I’m not one for women. I told you that didn’t I?”  
“Yes…but did you never…after… with anyone?” Sherlock hesitated, glancing back to check the Alpha’s temper.  
Alan was looking down along his legs at his socked feet.. He wasn’t surprised Sherlock had asked. “You can say his name. It’s okay from you. After Billy? Sex? No…I never…it never…felt right. So I didn’t. “

“But you …want to.... with me?” Sherlock checked it was still true.  
“Hell yeah!”  
Sherlock gave a startled laugh.  
Alan looked up and grinned. “Too honest?”  
“No…honest is good. Plus, you’re a terrible liar so I’d know anyway.”  
Riddick snorted. “My old mum used to say that. Shows on my face she always said? I’m an open book me.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes dramatically. “You so aren’t. None of the other guards knew anything about you.”  
“I didn’t know you talked to any of them?” Alan knew he sounded jealous. He couldn’t help it at the idea of any of them talking to the Omega , getting to know the boy like he had.  
Sherlock swivelled round fast. Alan saw the slight fear at his reaction as Sherlock moved to placate him. “I heard them talking sometimes that's all. Only Arvo ever talked … and I didn’t so much talk to him as he talked at me…you know, when you were gone…. before you came back…in the hospital.” Sherlock sounded like he was trying too hard and being careful what he said and how he said it.  
“Yeah? He couldn’t take you not talking lad.” Alan felt guilty as he reached out and felt Sherlock jump as he touched the boy’s short hair.” Used to call me up every evening I was gone and ask me if it meant 'owt that you’d not said a word all day. I just told him you were a right moody, stroppy little devil …”  
Sherlock banged Alan’s thigh hard with his shoulder.  
“Oi, less of the abuse! That hurt.” Alan teased.

The silence that followed felt full of words that needed saying.  
Alan wasn’t sure if he should start when Sherlock spoke first. “The first time Charles hit me when we were in the car, I wasn’t listening when he spoke to me, I didn’t feel well …he grabbed my neck and banged my head off the window. Do you remember? …because you were there, in the front seat.” Sherlock sounded like it was no big deal.  
“Yeah.” Alan spoke slowly. “You kept shaking after.”  
Sherlock looked up."It hurt."  
“ Aye. I should have bloody done something more to help than just watching you crying in the wing mirror.” Alan made himself look at Sherlock’s eyes.  
“It’s okay….”  
“No. I should have quit the job but …I wanted to be around you. Plus we'd had a talk...all the staff.. he’d told us all that Elite bonds were strict….that he’d beat you at times if you stepped out of line. If we couldn’t accept that would happen he said we should resign.”

Sherlock looked sick.  
“ I’d seen him smack Omega around before.” Alan owned up to it guiltily. “ Paid whores. He paid extra for boys who'd agree to that.”  
Sherlock’s eyes were huge and troubled. “Where? Where did you see that?”  
“That Russian mate of his … they both liked that same shit… whores , coke, parties... all that.”  
“God! I could have caught something!” Sherlock said in a rush.  
“No…he tested you every month. Plus he cut the whores out after he got you...mostly, except for the parties.”

“Fuck! Is knowing my Alpha made sure I dont have an STD he'd have given me, meant to make me feel less dirty?” Sherlock staggered to his feet.  
“You aren't dirty…Don’t fucking say that!”  
“I’m filthy and you know it!” Sherlock was angry.  
“No... I bloody don’t!” Alan was on his feet now .  
“ Yes you DO… because you’ve fucking watched it …all of it...so yes you know!” Sherlock was white with anger. “I’ve been better to watch than porn for years havent I?”  
Alan stared at Sherlock, open mouthed and speechless.  
“Oh for Christ’s sake ! Say something... anything!" Sherlock spat the livid words out.  
Alan was silent, his jaw clenched, eyes dark .  
Sherlock spun around on his heel and ran into the bedroom , slamming the door.

 

It was 4 am when the door opened . Sherlock lay very still as he heard Alan quietly setting down his gun , car keys and wallet in the pitch dark.  
The old mattress dipped down as Alan lay down. He was in the bed for once , under the same duvet as Sherlock, still fully clothed.  
“I’m sorry” Sherlock said it first. Words in the black dark, his face hidden.  
“You’ve nothing to say sorry for. I had that coming I reckon.” Alan’s voice was muted.  
Sherlock spoke quietly into the dark. “Yes I do…you helped me , nobody else did.” The words are inadequate.

“I need to see your face Sherlock , can I put the light on?”  
Sherlock closed his eyes against sudden pain …John had asked him that once… “No.”  
Alan did it anyway. The light was blinding and Sherlock covered his eyes with one thin arm as he blinked. Alan angled the beam of light away until it shone a bright circle on the ceiling.

Riddick looked very tired , there were hollows under his eyes that Sherlock hadn’t ever seen there. He looked sad. “I'm sorry... I did things I thought I had reasons to do at the time, part of my job …I was wrong , I shouldn’t have let that bastard do what he did… I did wrong by you. I thought … I thought just being around you was enough, as long as you stayed in my life, I thought if I could patch you up and show you some love it was making it better …I’m making no bloody sense here.”

"Yes you are." Sherlock felt very old. His head was splitting.  
“Sherlock you okay?”  
“Can I lay on top of you? “ Sherlock heard the sheer exhaustion in his voice.  
“On top of me? “ Alan asked to be sure he had heard that right. “You… want to be that close?”  
“Please? I don’t think I’m too heavy?” Sherlock waited to be rejected.  
“Aye….” A one word answer.

Alan lay very still as Sherlock edged closer. Sherlock placed one arm awkwardly to the side of Riddick’s shoulder and seemed to be working out how this could work before suddenly he moved and Alan tensed as the Omega’s slim , angular body settled on top of his own muscular frame. The boy didn't weigh much but it was anchoring.  
Alan took a few minutes to calm, hands clenching at his sides. Tense.  
“Okay?” Sherlock was asking him , his face close , his eyes anxiously checking.  
Alan could only nod.

Sherlock was like a cat, he laid his head down and lifted it up again , rejecting every place he tried. Riddick knew the boy wasn’t used to affection…he’d never seen the Omega touched in any gentle ways before Alan had started trying. He didn’t try and fix Sherlock's dilemma …instead he waited and finally Sherlock found a spot against Alan’s collar bone and lay still. “You can put your arms round me …if you want?”  
Alan moved slowly, cautiously letting his arms come up and wrap round Sherlock’s thin back. He could feel shoulder blades and ribs. The Omega was still too thin.

“I don’t want us to talk about …Charles or Apple Dore ever again. If this is to work that’s got to be a promise.” Sherlock didn’t look up, his breath warmed Alan’s neck as he spoke. “Anything else but not that. Not ever between us.”  
Alan knew better than to ask why, he tightened his arms and held on. "Ok love."


	30. Baker Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and John meet to take a look around 221b and Mycroft meets Mrs Hudson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say THANKS! to everyone for reading and commenting and leaving kudos. I am still a bit amazed by all the support TBH but its a fantastic thing!

Baker Street was always just the right amount of busy. Tourists wandering and locals looking to spend a quiet half hour in nearby Paddington Park made for a relaxed mood. It was a beautiful crisp , cold day. John had walked down from Marble Arch tube station and picked up a carrot cake at Marks and Spencer's on the corner opposite Selfridge's to take along as a gift.  
The black car idling at the kerb was Mycroft’s and John made sure he took in a calming breath. He didn’t want another argument just before they did this.  
As he turned to face the car John found himself staring at his own reflection in the dark tinted windows.  
“John.” Mycroft’s crisply polite upper class voice came from the pavement behind him as his quintessentially English reflection appeared reflected just behind John's shoulder.  
“Mycroft.”

John heard a note of cautious hesitation in the other man’s voice as he turned around. Sherlock's brother looked tired, but John supposed running the country had to wreak havoc on a person's sleep. Mycroft had a take away coffee in one hand. John wouldn’t have guessed that Mycroft would drink anything that came in a waxed paper take out mug with a lid.  
Mycroft’s eyes flickered cleverly over John’s face and down to the coffee in his own hand before he took another step forward and tapped with one thin finger on the car window. It was immediately opened and Mycroft handed the coffee in through the open window to whoever was inside. The window closed smoothly.

Mycroft’s face held a careful lack of expression as he looked up at the frontage of the narrow, townhouse but John saw the exact moment the Alpha noticed the crooked door knocker by the slight narrowing of his mouth.  
“It’s just a door knocker…” John kept his voice low and calm.  
Mycroft looked surprised that he had given his inner thoughts away. “I can see that John, “ he said mildly before he raised the lion’s head in his gloved hand and knocked sharply.  
“She’ll take a minute. She has a hip.”

The door opened suddenly and John’s instant smile was warm, wide and welcoming.  
The fragile, feminine lady embracing John on the doorstep was tiny and immaculately dressed in warm berry colours. Her short dark layered hair was very clearly dyed in an approximation of the colour it originally had held in the years of her youth and she was elegantly made up. There were small signs of nerves in the way her fingers twitched at the cuff of her lamb’s wool cardigan.  
“Oh John it’s so lovely to see you! Come on inside out of the cold. Its dreadful weather for my hip. First thing in the morning when I get out of bed it’s shocking.  
Ohh carrot cake John, how lovely! I’ll pop the kettle on shall I and we can all have a slice?”  
Mycroft blinked at the surprising, constant flow of motherly chatter.  
“Mrs Martha Hudson….Mycroft Holmes.” John was smiling, happy and more relaxed than Mycroft had ever seen him. He really liked this lady Mycroft realised.  
Mycroft extended a formal hand politely and was shocked when it was completely ignored in favour of a warm, gentle kiss of greeting on his cheek. Something that hadn’t happened since he’d last visited Nanny. Mrs Hudson smelt faintly of face powder.  
"Oh how lovely, look at you in your suit, looking so smart. So nice to see a gentleman who takes care of his appearance. My grandfather always wore a suit and a waistcoat but men knew how to dress well then. That generation was always so well presented. I remember my own mother never went outside without her face on ..."  
John didn’t do a good job of hiding his amusement at the slightly frozen , bemused look on the elder Holmes pale face.

Inside the hallway wallpaper was faded in a friendly, lived in way and the hall smelt pleasantly of beeswax furniture polish, lavender and chicken soup even though the worn stair carpet had seen better days.  
Mrs Hudson led the way upstairs in full conversational flow, John close behind her…Mycroft was surprised to see how marked John’s limp was. “The flat John thought would suit your brother is on the first floor Mr Holmes…there is a basement flat but nobody will take it …there’s a strong smell of damp you see and Omega notice things like that …but it's the first floor flat gets the sun all day. Much bigger windows and it’s south facing of course.”  
Mycroft took a steady breath in. The door was already open and Mycroft saw two full height original sash windows facing the street below. As Mrs Hudson had said; the morning light was streaming in across the floor. He wondered at what stage of proceedings it was appropriate to mention the need for bullet proof glass and high spec window locks.  
The smell of beeswax polish was stronger now and indeed the polish and a dusting cloth stood upon the mantelpiece. Mrs Hudson twitched at the heavy curtains disturbing a small cloud of dust.” Nobody has lived here for a while now…since John’s last young man. I’ll have to get these curtains dry cleaned of course if you decide to take it….”

John was watching Mycroft closely as the Elite Alpha looked around him. The bookcases stood empty now but would hold a considerable number of books. There was a fireplace that would allow a real fire. The long leather couch looked comfortable even if the baroque wallpaper was a very obstrusive pattern.  
“The kitchen is new,” Mrs Hudson said proudly. “That worktop came from Ikea John, Mr Chatterjee helped me collect it. It’s laminated…you can put a hot saucepan straight down on that and not a mark in sight. You can even slice tomatoes on it with a serrated knife.” She stroked it fondly.  
“Very nice.” John said tolerantly.  
Mycroft doubted it would withstand Sherlock even so but kept that opinion tactfully to himself.

“Bathroom’s through there and a double bedroom and there’s a spare room upstairs.” John’s voice was measured.  
“Will you be needing both bedrooms’?” Mrs Hudson looked at John as she spoke, her head tilted to one side like a bird.  
Mycroft hadn’t considered it but surely Sherlock would be safer if the whole flat was his own. “Yes I think that would be for the best. May I look around?”  
Mrs Hudson beamed, she seemed inordinately delighted that Mycroft approved of the compact flat with its five rooms "Of course you can, take your time and have a good nose in every room. I'll make us all some tea and John would you change the lightbulb in the hall for me?. I can't climb up on a chair with my hip".

The bathroom was considerably less opulent than Mycroft was personally used to however it was clean and perfectly useable. New soft Egyptian towels and bath sheets would need to be purchased . Sherlock had always had extremely sensitive skin.  
Mycroft opened the door to what would be Sherlock’s bedroom last and stood quietly trying to imagine his brother occupying the space. The light walls and dark furniture were tolerable. The mattress was most definitely not and a new one would need to be ordered from John Lewis. To Mycroft’s surprise the window was already fitted with several locks and a quiet air filtration system had been installed to ensure the bedroom could be used by an Omega in heat.  
Mycroft forced his mind to stop there.

From the kitchen he could hear the sound of a kettle boiling, warm happy chatter and John’s patient voice answering a very similar question several times in a row.  
" So what's your opinion? John’s voice came from the hallway and Mycroft turned to see the Alpha standing squarely in the doorway. “Mrs Hudson left us to have a cuppa in peace and make a decision. Any idea what you think so far?”  
“I see it’s already set up to accommodate an Omega in heat?” Mycroft was curious to know why that would be so, since Mrs Hudson was a Beta.  
“I’ve used this place as an Omega safe house a few times. “ John was relaxed about answering.  
That explained the heat filtration system.

“Do you think Sherlock will like it?” John’s voice gave little away but his brown eyes looked at the empty wardrobe as he spoke as though imagining it already filled with Sherlock’s clothes.  
“With a few alterations I believe so.” Mycroft saw the way John’s eyes flashed.  
“It’s not good enough for you?” John cut straight to the point.  
Mycroft had become accustomed to being so misjudged. “It’s more than acceptable...I would however like to upgrade some furnishings such as the bed to make it more comfortable for Sherlock and add some personal belongings John; to make it feel familiar.”

John had the good grace to look shamefaced about his assumption. “I hung onto his poster from school…the elemental table…do you think he’d still like that?”  
Mycroft was unexpectedly touched. “I am sure he would John, it was a gift on his 10th birthday. I can have it framed.”  
“You gave it to him?”  
“I did indeed. He had a small laboratory set up at home in the old nursery. “Mycroft’s voice was so well controlled it revealed nothing of the intense family argument that his choice of gift had caused.  
“He always loved science then?” John sounded wistful.  
“He’d a great many interests John always …ballet as you know, code breaking, nature, science and music chiefly.”  
“He had a lot of books at school. I’d borrowed the one about Bletchley Park when he was taken, I’ve kept that. It had your name in the front crossed out and his underneath? ”  
Mycroft could feel the beginnings of a migraine around one eye. He forced himself to ignore it and think back. “A white cover? It belonged to me first John. When I left for University he inherited a great many of my books.”

John walked ahead of Mycroft into the kitchen. The two cups of tea stood untouched and cold but Mycroft was pleased to note they were actual bone china cups on saucers and not a ghastly mug as was the fashion.  
John poured both down the sink and washed up both cups. “We’ll have to pretend we drank them when she asks and she will.”  
There was an undertone to John’s voice that spoke of a question not yet asked. “Those rooms he lived in at Magnussen’s, there was absolutely nothing for Sherlock to do there. Totally bare.”  
Mycroft acknowledged that truth with a small nod of his head. “Charles Magnussen was of the opinion that an Elite Omega’s focus should be his bond mate and his children. Ironically he was delighted by Sherlock’s intellect and mentioned it several times before they were bonded with regard to the good genes and intelligence any offspring would have…yet he controlled and restricted any further opportunities Sherlock asked for to learn.”  
“He did ask then?” John’s voice was sad.  
“According to Alan Riddick… repeatedly throughout the first year of the bond and sporadically every month after that . Rarely with any success. Sherlock was profoundly bored and lonely.”  
John shook his head.” That’s what I will never understand about your class. The bloody arrogance. Would it have killed the bastard to let Sherlock learn?”  
Mycroft’s headache was fast reaching monumental proportions. “It’s not a question of arrogance John…it’s a matter of control and the necessity for that to be absolute.” The pain in his skull was so acute it was hard to think at all.

John was looking at Mycroft closely. “You don’t look well?” He reboiled the kettle and made them both a fresh cup of tea.  
“A migraine,” Mycroft confessed.” Most unpleasant.”  
John looked at the other man closely.“I get it; this has to be difficult for you. You don’t know Mrs Hudson and here we are asking you to let Sherlock live here in her care instead of with you. I can arrange for you to speak with some of the Omega who have stayed here if that will help? “John slid a cup of tea on its saucer over towards Mycroft. His steady hand spilt none into the saucer.  
Mycroft was surprisingly touched by that offer. “Would they be willing to talk to me?”  
“Two have already said they would. Not in person but over the phone. I’ll arrange it.”  
Mycroft nodded and took a sip of his tea… strong but not unpleasant. “That would be most reassuring. I would prefer to be able to recommend it to Sherlock wholeheartedly when the time for that discussion comes. He will notice the smallest hesitation. “

“You’re happy with it then? With Sherlock living here?” John looked relieved. “That’s good... most of the Omega who’ve stayed here came from situations that were abusive, emotionally and sexually. Mrs Hudson’s good with them, kind of an Omega whisperer.” John grinned, pleased with his own analogy. “She settles them down, gets them talking again, making eye contact. I’ve come in here to find a boy who was close to shut down a few months before, laughing and icing cup-cakes in her kitchen. Give her a chance Mycroft…she can work wonders.”


	31. Tight Heads and Tighter Buns....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out who was waiting for Mycroft in his car and enjoying a coffee from Speedy's while they did.  
> Mycroft is plagued by migraine headaches and the pain and his lonely guilt makes him open up about some issues that he normally keeps well hidden.

Greg watched John and Mycroft part company civilly on the step outside 221b from inside Mycroft’s swish chauffeur driven car. Greg knew John well enough to tell the Alpha was pleased with the way things had gone. He knew John would already be moving onto the next thing that needed to be done before Sherlock came home as he walked briskly away.  
He was relieved to see neither man showed any signs of there having been another argument between them.

He was less relieved to see how pale and pained  
Mycroft looked as the Elite Alpha opened the car door and sat into the comfortable, cream leather rear seat.  
“Don’t take this the wrong way but you look like shite.” Greg said mildly.  
“Thank you Gregory. I believe that assessment accurately reflects my current condition.” Mycroft closed his eyes and leant his head back against the headrest with a sigh. The car smelt pleasantly of coffee.  
“Another headache? Two in two days?” It had to be surely, Mycroft looked as though the light hurt his eyes.  
“Twice blessed it would seem. New Scotland Yard please David.” Mycroft sounded resigned.  
Greg wasn’t sure if he should talk or stay silent as the driver eased the car into London’s traffic. He was still trying to decide when Mycroft answered his dilemma.  
“Please. Ask your questions. It provides a... distraction.”

“How do you do that? How do you know that I am thinking of asking something before I say a word?”  
“Simple observational skills Gregory. Your breathing held several longer pauses between inhalation and exhalation than usual…indicative of two questions that you were considering asking. The movement of your left hand on the armrest also suggested that possibility includes two formulaic questions that you feel you could ask and beneath that another ..real question... you wish answered that you feel is too intrusive. There are two likely conversational avenues and my health has already been covered as a topic.” Mycroft’s own breathing sounded somewhat breathless as the tight band of pain expanded and felt as though it was opening a fault line in his skull. “Therefore you would most likely choose the safe option and ask me a very dull question about how the meeting with John went.  
I can save you the trouble…it went well, I have agreed to my brother living with a virtual stranger outside of my immediate control. Despite my reservations I am repeatedly assured this is widely considered to be the best situation for him. John and I therefore managed to avoid another tedious disagreement, although barely. You know all there is to know without needing to ask.  
Ask your real question Gregory...most people simply fail to observe the whole situation…I don’t.”

“I was going to ask you if it’s a learned skill or something you could do all along...giving you the opportunity to showcase while telling me how it works .... but now just to be bloody awkward I won’t. You want distraction... I'm interested...let's give a question with some balls a try shall we? Why do you carry so much personal guilt over what happened to Sherlock?”

Mycroft almost opened his eyes to take a closer look at the Omega sat next to him. He admired the intelligent audacity of Gregory’s straight forward question, so he paid the Omega the compliment of deciding to answer both questions honestly. “I believe there was always an intrinsic ability but since I conscientiously honed and refined it it’s impossible to say with any accuracy.” Mycroft kept his eyes closed as he spoke. “In Sherlock it was there from a very early age to a surprising degree. He was deducing truths and discovering lies long before he had the ability to differentiate between those revelations he should withhold and those he could safely disclose.”  
Greg often found he had to wait a moment and think before he could read the simple truth hidden under Mycroft’s complicated phrasing. “It got him into trouble?”  
“On several occasions almost as soon as he began to speak in sentences. Especially with our father Siger who regarded it as a freakish affectation.”  
“But you didn’t?”

Mycroft’s wince and the fingers held against his temple showed he was still in pain. “No. Selfishly I was delighted to share a secret with Sherlock. Something we could do as full brothers that Sherringford as a half sibling could not. I encouraged Sherlock, I made it an amusing game to fill the time, later it became almost a competition between us to see who had the greater latent ability. I gave no thought to the consequences.”  
“You got him into trouble?” Greg tried to understand why Mycroft sounded so sad whenever he spoke about his brother.

“No Gregory …nothing so mundane… I helped to make him an outcast within his own home. Once my love for him was noted he became the butt of Sherringford’s teasing and spite, the target of Father’s dislike and Mother’s open disdain.” Mycroft stopped talking suddenly as though shocked by what he had just said.  
“I don’t understand? How was any of that your fault?” was Greg’s simple question.

Mycroft opened his eyes surprised by the Omega's response and Greg was shocked to see the grey blue of his iris was almost totally eclipsed by the expanded dark black of his cornea. He wasn’t sure Mycroft could even see him.  
“Long before the role of least favoured son became Sherlock’s in perpetuity; it had been mine. I was a plain child, freckled, overweight, unfit. Intelligent in a bookish way that Father didn’t care for. I wore glasses, suffered from hay fever and headaches.  
As I grew older my lack of any sporting prowess became its own source of humiliation. Each summer when Father had house parties and played long games of cricket on the lawn I was always the first to be bowled out. In the autumn when those house parties involved riding to hounds …I was shown to lack courage when it came to riding cross country. Each failure embarrassed father. I simply did not excel where it was expected of me. My own father was ashamed of me. He said so openly."

"Then Sherlock became more visible, now he was five and released from the claustrophobic world of the nursery which was always Nanny’s domain. He was so unlike any of us in temperament yet so like me in ability …an obvious Omega, therefore an instant disappointment despite his beauty and his intelligence… and the negative comments began to turn in focus towards him. He was too young to notice of course. His face would fall whenever he was ignored or ridiculed, he could never hide that hurt ...but he had no awareness of why it was that he would always be found lacking."

"Both of our parents spent much of the season travelling for two years in a row and Sherlock was left behind as was I. He thrived in that empty house. WE thrived. He was startlingly prodigious, shown anything to learn he devoured it, de-constructed it and made of it something new. I encouraged him in the things he was so talented at.  
I cannot tell you how many endless scrapes he got himself into until our poor housekeeper Mrs Brown, who was elderly even then, was at her wits end.  
He broke antique vases with homemade sling shots and marbles, he slid down bannisters when a fall from that height onto a marble floor could have killed him, he collected everything strangely wonderful he found; from fossils to the skull of a mole, he explored every inch of the family home including the area’s strictly forbidden to him…he was chaotic and enchanting. He could just as equally hug you as he would hide from you for hours upon end. I found him fascinating. The first time I had ever found another person to be so."

"Then our parents returned for Christmas when Sherlock was seven and this time they stayed …  
Neither one saw fit to indulge him. For an innocent age, appropriate mistake at the dining table Sherlock would face the wall throughout the whole meal while we all ate, answering back even if he was being wrongly accused would see him sent to his room, a mistake in study or penmanship would be punished with lines, failure to eat everything on his plate or to sit up straight saw father correct him .  
He began to be more cautious. He spoke less and spent all the time he could outside in the grounds or hiding away with books. When I came home from boarding school he asked me for the first time what an Omega was and then threw a tantrum when told he couldn’t simply decide not to be one.  
I made him an acolyte...admiration, the one thing I received so rarely, was the price I demanded and he paid. When it suited me to be alone I would shut him out, I gave him very little physical affection…I felt ill at ease with his childish Omega need for that…with his need for it from me. I told him he needed to control himself….”

Greg decided he’d heard enough self-flagellation, he could see where this was going. “That’s Alpha big brothers for you. I'd three myself and mine used to torture me.” The Omega’s voice was kind.  
Mycroft blinked.  
“Not literally. I’d cry at the drop of a hat if I lost a board game or a football match. Course they all wound me up something chronic. They all admit now they thought I was more of a girl than I was a boy. There was even talk of them getting me a pink dress instead of football boots one Christmas if I didn't stop acting like one.” Greg laughed at the shock on Mycroft’s face.  
Mycroft blinked twice before closing his eyes and breathing slowly through his nose.

“What I mean is…. you have guilt and some of it may be valid, I don’t know …but a lot of it seems like it’s about decisions that you didn’t have the authority to make and your parents fucked up attitude to Omega that you didn't even share?” Greg paused. “When I joined the force there was fuck up in training… a Beta girl on a bridge, pregnant, threatening to jump and I knew I could help but I wasn’t allowed near enough to talk to her. Instead an Alpha officer tried to talk her down…. she ending up jumping and I blamed myself for damn near a year afterwards for not being assertive enough because I was an Omega and I’d done the expected thing and deferred to a bunch of Alpha’s. Blaming yourself achieves nothing, changes nothing …all you can do is make a better fist of it if you get another chance.”

Mycroft’s intelligent, pained eyes were open now and staring directly and thoughtfully at Greg.

“ You know John and you have a lot more in common than either of you want to admit. Both of you blame yourselves for failing Sherlock but neither of you ever stop to ask if he blames you himself. For all you know Sherlock looks back and feels differently, sees you as someone who cared when nobody else did.”

The car slowed as it reached New Scotland Yard. Greg had gathered up his coat and prepared to open the door when Mycroft spoke. “I find your company unexpectedly tolerable Gregory.... most people are barely sufferable.”

Greg smiled as he opened the door and got out before leaning his head back in. “I’m not sure if that’s the best or the worst compliment I’ve ever received …” He paused to think before flashing an impudent smile. “No the worst is still the Alpha Inspector who told me I had great buns in the middle of a stake out.”  
Mycroft looked appalled...then rapidly...amused.“ As opposed to your other professional capabilities? Should I appologise I didn’t consider the merits or otherwise of your ‘buns’ …whatever those may be Gregory?” He gave a tentative smile followed immediately by a wince of pain.  
“ Exactly....just be sure and notice next time if you get the chance, it's a bloody exceptional asset...“ Gregory joked, shut the door and was gone, whistling Danny Boy under his breath as he strode up the steps.

"I rather think the whole man is even more so...Drive on David. Downing Street." Mycroft closed his eyes.


	32. Fragile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riddick attracts a lot of attention without seeming to notice.....Sherlock gets jealous...and a little insecure....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fragile....by Kygo and Labrinth

January sales were misnamed, they needed a new name based on some variant of Hell. Everything was too loud, too busy, took too long or involved standing in stationary queues, usually behind screaming children.  
The heavy coats needed outside the store made Sherlock feel like he was trapped and being baked alive in a sauna now they were inside. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He was clammy, hot and weak..

Riddick gave a stoic, long suffering sigh as the Beta woman in front of them decided she couldn’t wait any longer and reversed her pram backwards without any warning , forcing Alan to flatten himself against a display of reduced tree decorations that poked him in the kidneys.  
“I told you this was a bad idea.” Sherlock said, and leant his forehead on Alan’s back.  
“It’s not a bad idea…You need clothes. I need clothes.”  
“Dull.”

To Sherlock’s right at the till a small boy stared at him while exploring his nose with a finger.  
Another ten minutes, two refunds, and stomach churning repetitions of the child’s relentless nose picking later and Alan dumped everything they wanted to buy in its green net shopping basket onto the checkout counter.  
The Omega behind the cash till ,who had alarmingly orange , fake tanned skin, took one look at Alan, widened his eyes and produced a blinding white veneered smile Sherlock assumed was meant to be sexy.

“Can I leave the hangers?” Alan asked , distracted by looking for his wallet through the multiple zipped pockets of his coat.  
“Yes, you can. “ More smiling Sherlock noticed and what was with that ridiculous husky, insinuation filled voice? “We just need to take the clothes off ..the hangers before we scan them.”  
Sherlock scowled. We? Wasn't that his job not Alan's!  
“Right,” Alan reached for a sweatshirt to pull it off the hanger at the exact same time the Omega working there did …Sherlock stared as their fingers collided.  
“Sorry, my bad.” The Omega didn’t sound at all sorry.  
He smirked at Sherlock.  
Sherlock didn’t miss the obvious checking for a bond ring moment either.

The walk through the crowded store to the exit, with Alan juggling all the bags full of shopping, earn’t the Alpha several more openly admiring glances. Two from Beta women, before two teenaged school girls in uniform acted like idiots as one banged the others arm and pulled her around so she saw Riddick , and both started giggling, blushing and gawking…another bonded Omega checked Alan out behind his Alpha’s back.  
Most glanced at Alan’s face before looking down his muscular body to stop at his ‘package’ and Sherlock didn’t mean the type you wrapped in paper and stuck under a tree.  
Alan didn’t seem to notice any of it.

Sherlock felt claustrophobic, blocked by crowds where ever he stepped , following Alan like a lap dog… by the time they were outside he felt moodily bad tempered. The icy air helped clear his head.  
“Bloody Heck…its freezing.” Alan complained most of the way to the car park about how cold it was.

The dark parking bays and shadowed corners of the huge multi story car park made Sherlock feel uneasy. He leant against the side of the Land Rover with his back, sulking as Riddick threw the bags into the back and slammed the door, waiting for the Alpha to open the front doors so they could finally get in and go home…but Alan was just standing there awkwardly, keys jangling in one hand, breath steaming in the frozen night air.

Sherlock frowned....”What?”  
“I was thinking we could go eat? There’s a couple of restaurants back the way we just came… pizza, steak house, curry…” Alan was uncomfortable.  
“We have eggs to use up at home don’t we?”  
Riddick looked uneasy .Sherlock watched as he swallowed twice . Worried about saying whatever it was he hadn't said yet but determined.“ I thought… like a date…”  
OH! Sherlock hadn’t expected that, it was hard to read Alan’s face in the dark.  
He’d never been out to eat with anyone except Charles on a date night and that had never gone well. Sherlock would study the tablecloth or his plate throughout , keeping his eyes downcast in case Charles accused him of breaching etiquette and making eye contact with another Alpha. The whole meal was so stressful Sherlock could barely manage to eat and Charles would get angrier with every course Sherlock left unfinished.

Now he needed to say something even though he hadn’t expected Riddick to ask him on a date at all. Sherlock hesitated. “ Ok… Not pizza though. I don’t like melted cheese.”  
Alan looked relieved before he looked pleased and Sherlock knew then how preoccupied the Alpha had been with asking. “ Alright. “ He sounded happy.

The street was dark and the temperature was dropping but each restaurant was brightly lit and Alan stopped patiently to read Sherlock each menu , translating the Finnish despite the drop in temperature and the bitterly cold night air.  
“I never had curry.” Sherlock had no idea if he’d like it but the restaurant looked colourful and there was a golden statue of Ganesh in the window.  
“You like heat and spice?” Riddick sounded pleased. “Ok then.”

Alan held the door open for Sherlock . The smell inside the restaurant was incredible. Warm spices , tender meats and buttery rice.  
Sherlock hesitated when he saw other faces at the tables. Alpha and Omega, Beta..... Couples.  
Charles would have had a forceful , pinching grip around the tender bone of his elbow, before they even set foot inside; so he could control Sherlock’s every move …now when he stopped dead Alan bumped into him. “Sorry lad.”

A short, dark skinned Alpha man with a moustache, wearing a dark red shirt with a bow tie and black trousers with a satin cumber band was walking towards them with a welcoming smile.  
Sherlock shied nervously towards Alan…he felt the Alpha stop and take a look at him. Alan’s warm hand engulfed Sherlock’s. Finger's interlocking. Quietly , unobtrusively supportive.  
“Do you have a quiet corner table for two? “  
They did … Sherlock wasn’t sure if he’d rather they hadn’t.

Alan pulled Sherlock’s chair out for him and then sat opposite him across the tiny dark table with a smile.  
“Aren’t you going to sit next to me?” Sherlock would have liked to be fully blocked from view.  
“Couldn’t look across the table at you then lad.” Alan said with quietly satisfied emphasis.  
Sherlock didn’t know what to say to that pure nonsense.

Ordering made Sherlock panic , the Alpha server was stood right there with menus and Sherlock had no idea what he wanted to eat and wasn’t used to being asked. “You choose.”  
Nothing seemed to bother Alan, even the fact that Sherlock couldn’t choose his own food. Riddick asked a lot of questions before he ordered and ordering seemed to take a long time.  
Sherlock looked down at the table.  
“ I ordered too much…don’t mind it , I thought you can try a bit of most of it and see what you like. Do you want a drink ?”  
Did he? Sherlock didn’t know! “Are you getting a drink?” Safe …always defer to the Alpha.  
“Yeah .. lager but I don’t know if you’d like that? They’ve coke, mineral water or wine if you like?” Alan watched the nervous clench of Sherlock’s fingers without comment. “Tell you what, why don’t you try coke, you’ve a sweet tooth?”  
Sherlock nodded.

The food Alan had ordered arrived in small oval metal dishes and smelt like nothing Sherlock had ever eaten before. The rice came in three colours and was cooked with onions that tasted sweet. There were small triangular pastries that had spinach and potato in , chicken in a rich , spicy sauces and lamb that melted in the mouth. Side dishes of cooling white yoghurt and cucumber came with flat chewy breads and thin, papery ones that broke easily. Sherlock’s coke had a slice of lemon and ice floating in it , looked very brown like tea with no milk but didn’t taste at all like he’d expected, a constant stream of tiny bubbles rose from the bottom of the glass and popped on its surface....

Alan hid his smile as Sherlock tried a little of every dish more than once and ate almost a whole nan bread. It was good to see the boy eat, having had both arms round him a few nights ago Alan realised how underweight the Omega was…most of the time it was hidden by padded jackets and several layers.

Around them the restaurant began filling up. Sherlock stayed as far in the corner as he could trying not to be seen…. but Alan was being noticed. With the Alpha’s height and physique he stood out Sherlock realised and every so often an Omega or a Beta glanced curiously about , perhaps bored by their own dates conversation and noticed him. The second they did was easy to spot, eyes widened, they touched their hair and some even licked their lips in an unconsciously sexual interested gesture…within a few minutes every stupid time they got up and trekked past Sherlock and Alan’s small table on their way to the toilets ….seizing that opportunity for a closer look.  
Sherlock took the time to look at Alan and see what they saw. Dark short hair with messy sexy layers, blue eyes , masculine bone structure and a strong well shaped mouth that looked like Alan laughed often. .Sherlock knew Riddick was good looking , he just wasn’t used to realising other people knew that as well.

Alan didn’t seem to see any of them, he was talking about taking Sherlock ice fishing like he hadn’t once noticed his admirers but that made no sense. A trained body guard who wasn’t aware of everyone in the vicinity…yeah right! So he was deliberately avoiding reacting.

Sherlock took a sip of coke. It fizzed round his tongue. “The Omega in the department store...liked you.”  
“Yeah?” Alan made it sound like a question.  
“The one whose fingers ‘accidentally' touched yours...the one with the weirdly false , identical looking teeth. He made eye contact thirteen more times than was necessary.” Sherlock wasn’t sure why he had started talking about this.  
“Necessary for what?” Alan was looking at him with a puzzled stare. “You want to share that last piece of lamb?”  
Sherlock shook his head. “ He was flirting …you didn’t notice?”  
“Was he? I thought he was just making a sale.”  
Sherlock felt angry. “You don’t think he was?”  
Alan was frowning now. Confused. “ He’s just a guy in a store Sherlock. Doing his job.” Alan spooned some rice onto his plate.

“You didn’t see the two school girls? You must have …one hit the other to make her notice you? Just as we were leaving?” Sherlock couldn’t let it go.  
“Oh them....“ Alan was dismissive. “ About as subtle as a bottle in the face.”  
“So you do notice.” Sherlock pounced.  
“ You get the eye way more than I do.” Alan said gently.  
“That’s not the point.” Sherlock wasn’t sure what the point was but it definitely wasn’t that!

There was a short silence . When Sherlock didn’t say anything else Alan took a swig of lager.  
“ I’m right next to you and nobody thought I was your Omega. Not once.”  
“ How’d you know what everyone thought?” Alan pushed his plate away to one side.  
“Hello…I always know remember? None of them cared that I was stood with you.” Sherlock knew he sounded bitter. “All of them thought you were single and available.”  
Alan said ‘fuck’ under his breath quietly but Sherlock heard it. “ So? Maybe they all thought I was too average for a stunner like you to look twice at. Why’d you care what a bunch of strangers think all of a bloody sudden?”  
“I don’t .” Sherlock said moodily.  
“Could have fooled me lad.” Riddick said mildly.

Walking back to the Land Rover snow was drifting and settling silently. A blanket of clean pure white that would cover every surface immaculately by morning.  
Alan ran the engine for a few minutes so the car would warm up before tuning the radio to a rock station.  
Sherlock still felt tense and unhappy. They weren't talking .

As they left town a white fox ran across the road , Sherlock watched it vanish through the narrow gap in a low fence.  
“Want to tell me what all that back at the restaurant was about?” Alan spoke without confrontation or anger but still managed to sound annoyed. His eyes didn't look at Sherlock but stayed watching the road ahead .  
“You say you don’t notice people who want you but you do.” Sherlock didn’t mean it to sound as accusational as it did.  
“Ever think maybe I just don’t care enough to pay it any heed?” Alan asked. “ I’m not wearing a bond ring that’s all. They don’t know any better than that.”  
Sherlock didn’t find that remark helped at all. It made him strangely angry.

Alan glanced over at him. “ What’s going on in that head of yours? Do you see me looking back at any of them the same way?”  
“No….” Small word … huge amount of doubt.  
Alan pulled the car over into an empty bus parking bay by a school. “No….? Why's that sounding like you think I did?”  
Sherlock shook his head.  
“You started this shit Sherlock. If you think I did something wrong by you then come on and say it?”  
Sherlock stared out the window. Avoiding eye contact. Submissive. Silent.  
Alan waited.  
“Sorry.” Sherlock’s nerves showed in his shaky voice.

Alan’s eyes didn’t look away but his demeanor and voice changed at once. “ Fuck it. I’m not going to hit you lad . Not ever. I just want to know what’s got you so jealous! It’s been a good day hasn’t it? The meal was good?”  
Sherlock nodded miserably. Jealous…was he really that? Ugh! Pathetic!

“I’m with you aren’t I? “ Now it was Alan whose voice was thick with uncertainty.  
“Not …properly…” Sherlock turned his body away as he said it.  
“Bonded you mean?”  
“ Not…just that….we don’t…” Sherlock hated having to say it.  
“You think less of me because I don’t bang you down on the bed and have my bloody way with you? Even when you arent ready for that?” Alan sounded frustrated now.

“No!” Sherlock spoke up fast. Deny . Deny.“ But you don’t smell of me and I don’t smell of you, everyone scents us and can tell we …haven't.”  
Alan’s laugh was dully, hopelessly unamused. “ Sorry to burst your bubble there lad but one sniff of you says we share a bed… our scents all over each other! Even the barber asked me if you and me were a new bond.”  
Sherlock stared.  
“Why’d you think other Alpha aren’t looking at you ?” Alan asked carefully. “ They scent your bond and me overlaying it and think it has to be me. If they thought you were single you’d be beating the fuckers off with sticks.”  
Sherlock felt like an idiot.  
Alan gave an exasperated , fond sigh. " Forget the sex for a minute ok? How come what I tell you about how I feel about you isn't sinking in like it should be? I asked you out tonight …first time I’ve done that in years and you spent most of it twisted... thinking some other Omega I talked to for less than five minutes is who I want there instead of you?”  
Put like that it sounded stupid. Sherlock berated himself…idiot!

Alan’s hand touched his arm. “ Look at me .”  
Sherlock did.  
Riddick cupped the back of Sherlock’s skull , right at its base....warm, capable fingers on colder pale skin. His mouth when it took Sherlock’s was firmly demanding, a real Alpha kiss. Sherlock's heart beats scattered into his chest. When Riddick pulled back Sherlock’s lips were softly swollen and the Omega’s blue eyes were slow to open. “ Right… let's get home soft lad !” Alan said it with love.

" 'False identical looking teeth'....?" Riddick started laughing helplessly and shook his head in disbelief as he drove back onto the road ."I can't believe you said that!"  
Sherlock flushed. "Can we just forget I ever said it? Please"  
" Not a hope. " Alan grinned. 


	33. Way Down We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft gathers the people he hopes can help in the landmark legal challenge to break Magnussen's bond .... exactly how public, traumatic and damaging the legal battle will need to be becomes clear...
> 
> John reveals how selfless his love is and how much he personally is prepared to sacrifice if it means seeing Sherlock home, happy and safe.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BlueTrasno...the track is Way Down We Go by Kaleo

John could feel the beginnings of a crick in his neck as he stared up at the full height of the Chester Street town house with its dark London brick and spotless white stucco. Above him a surveillance camera swivelled monitoring his every move. John’s smile was full of a cheeky, boyish sense of the absurd that was still very much a part of the man. “Do I still need to knock or shall I just say open sesame?” He asked, speaking directly into the lens with its blinking green light

The still silence of the grand house was the first thing John always noticed, it was profoundly unlike most modern family homes, with their busy sounds and lingering cooking or pet smells. It felt almost as though he’d stepped back in time to an age without television or any form of music that wasn’t performed to stiff audiences sat in well mannered appreciation on balloon back chairs. The stiff, formal silence would have been absolute where it not for the steady, almost rhythmic, ticking of the tall grandfather clock.  
The agent began patting John down , checking for concealed weapons. John waited for him to discover his SIG and overreact..

“ I’m sure Doctor Watson has no dangerous intent towards me so early in the evening.” Mycroft spoke with his customary dry wit. His tone was that of a head master patiently correcting a child and the agent looked suitably chastised.  
“John, a pleasure to see you as always….” Mycroft’s manners remained immaculate as always as did his appearance, though John was quick to see the Elite Alpha looked more exhausted than he had the last time they’d met, when the other man had been suffering from a migraine.

The huge sitting room on the first floor ran the whole width of the town house. It was formal but still felt like a very personal space. Silver framed photographs of Sherlock were displayed on the mantelpiece and all the side tables. John couldn’t help looking at Sherlock’s brittle smile in the ones taken as he neared puberty.

Aric Weber was sat in one of the comfortable couches close to the marble Robert Adam’s fireplace in which a coal fire had been well banked and was glowing hospitably. The lawyer had removed his jacket and thrown it over the back of the couch, had pulled his tie loose and undone the top buttons on his pink and white candy striped shirt. He was working with his shirt sleeves rolled up , revealing an expensive TAG Hauer watcb on one wrist. The large coffee table in front of him was obliterated by files, he looked to have been ensconced there for some time if the ash tray and the lingering smell of pipe tobacco were any clue. He rose and greeted John with a hearty handshake and a clap on his shoulder.

The second gentlemen was the BBC journalist Paul Arrabi, John recognised him instantly from the news and from his infamous Apple Dore interview that had resulted in Charles Magnussen losing his temper and storming out. It was strange to meet some one from tv in the flesh. He was shorter than he looked when he was sitting down, like a human optical illusion. Darkly handsome with wavy black hair and a flashing smile.  
Greg Lestrade’s quiet presence was unexpected , the Omega looked relaxed. Once again John found himself worrying what the implications for the DI could be if there was more between Mycroft and Greg than he had realised.

Once drinks and canapés were served conversation covering a wide range of difficult topics relating to Sherlock flowed more smoothly; thanks in no small part by the quality of the 35 year old Islay malt being served. The conversation became challenging quickly.

Paul spoke at length about the advantages to Mycroft of granting the BBC, specifically himself , exclusive rights concerning Sherlock’s story. “Charles Magnussen is the great white shark in the journalistic pool, nobody knows more clearly than he does the importance of using it to sway public opinion and nobody can do it better since he as good as owns the British tabloid press.We can strike back but we would need to follow Sherlock from his arrival home, this can be done with a small camera and sound team but we would need an exclusive prime time initial TV interview as part of any BBC deal and I would need to be free to ask the questions I feel the public have an interest in seeing answered. If you want public opinion behind Sherlock before the trial, then they have to feel personally invested.”  
Listening to Paul speak it became clear just how exposed Sherlock's life would become before and during the legal struggle and Mycroft and John exchanged worried glances, knowing how shy and vulnerable Sherlock was despite his Elite background and his beauty.

“We’ve already seen the blatant manipulation and anti-Elite Omega bias in every newspaper Magnussen owns. We need a way to tip that balance back in our favour however unpalatable for everyone involved.” Aric was following the conversation despite leafing through folder after folder making extensive notes in red pen.

Mycroft nodded in reluctant assent but uncertainty still lingered in his voice. “Aric you mentioned the possibility that the very worse images of Sherlock’s abuse could have to be made public?”  
Aric’s measured reply carried weight. “That is regrettably more of a necessity than a possibility. Charles Magnussen’s legal team will search back through years of footage hoping to find any images that seem to show your brother and his ex-bodyguard in compromising situations. It is highly likely there will be ‘eye witnesses’ from among Magnussen’s household staff. If they can find any such footage or enlist such witness you can be sure Magnussen will use it to suggest that an inappropriate relationship akin to a pseudo bond existed between Elite Omega and Common Alpha and pre-dated Sherlock’s decision to flee his lawful Alpha. He may even claim it is the real motivation behind it. The other possibility is that Magnussen may threaten to release certain lurid images himself …in an effort to intimidate your brother into backing down. By making our own controlled release we can avoid that.” Aric was pragmatic yet not unsympathetic.  
Mycroft looked fraught at the prospect. Greg watched as Mycroft rose to top up a glass that was nowhere near empty , allowing himself a shred of privacy in which he could compose himself. “Sherlock has no idea yet that I have even seen images of him being abused, there was never a chance to discuss it with him and I very much doubt Riddick will have done so. Now I’m told his public humiliation could be unavoidable almost as soon as he returns? I’m deeply concerned about the effect such distress could have upon him. Mentally and emotionally he is …fragile.”

“It’s an inevitability in a case such as this Herr Holmes sadly. If we decide foolishly to spare Sherlock’s feelings and play with less than a full deck we will lose. Be assured Charles Magnussen will pull no such punches and he of course has the child to use to tug at the heartstrings with those big tearful eyes.  
To soften the blow of Sherlock's exposure to a degree I intend to push for Omega parental contact with Aleksander immediately... it should be granted on a temporary, highly supervised basis... although there is a small possibility of its being rejected due to images like these. “ Weber was nothing if not direct. He selected a file from his open briefcase and offered a series of photographs from it to Mycroft. “I received these via email today and you can be assured that if these are of no worth to him then Magnussen has others that look more incriminating .”

As soon as he looked at them Mycroft’s face changed. He found himself looking at several still images of Alan Riddick and Sherlock sat on a bench in a crowded shopping centre. Sherlock looked incredibly fragile. He was leaning forward with his head in his hands. He’d removed his heavy jacket and it lay behind him on the bench , a half finished bottle of mineral water on top of it. Mycroft could see how underweight Sherlock was clearly, due to his posture his spinal bones showed angularly. Riddick was so close to Sherlock their thighs were touching , which gave the photo a proprietorial feeling, but it was the position of the Alpha’s wide hand over the Omega’s bond bite, palm cupping the back of Sherlock’s neck and his finger tips disappearing just under the neck of Sherlock’s sweater that was more shocking. The man was caressing the bond bite on Sherlock’s neck!

John didn’t need to ask Mycroft to explain…he already knew Sherlock had broken with what was conventionally allowed from Mycroft’s reaction.  
“ He trusts him a lot to let him near his bond bite.” Greg spoke up quietly. “ That has to mean he is being treated kindly? That’s a good thing right?”  
“ He relies heavily upon Riddick emotionally.” Mycroft tried to excuse what he could see. He found Greg’s comment to be strangely effective at reducing the instinctively protective Alpha anger he felt merely from seeing an image of Alan Riddick touching Sherlock in such an intimate, errogonous zone on his body..but Greg was right …Sherlock didn’t appear hurt or afraid.  
Mycroft cursed that Magnussen was ahead of him this one time , glancing at the identifying shop fronts in the background before he beckoned an agent forward, instructing him to forward the images to his team so the difficult search to identify where exactly they were taken could begin .They would work through the night and into the next day if need be.

“ If this type of image…or worse… is used how damaging will that be to Sherlock’s whole case?” John asked quietly.  
“We can portray it in court as a paternal care shown to a vulnerable Omega…if they have more intimate footage then it will be very damaging. The Bond Court will be understandably reluctant to release an Elite Alpha’s Omega to copulate with his Alpha’s ex employee and form an unsuitable bond, especially as the welfare of a child is involved. They may refuse to dissolve Sherlock’s original bond in such an instance and allow only a legal separation." Aric lit his black and chrome pipe and puffed to coax it alight before speaking again. "Do you believe your brother and Riddick are now lover’s Herr Holmes?”  
All eyes turned to Mycroft. The Elite Alpha looked pained by the mere suggestion, as he spoke his reluctance to speculate was clear. “Possibly... John… you know and can better explain the medical facts that seem to support that assumption?”  
John sounded equally reluctant to state his opinion as he answered. “Elite Omega suffer from oedema of the bite site causing extreme pain and severe swelling that can compress the spinal cord unless double knotted at least once during a heat mating. Unlike a common Omega the bond bite never fully heals due to its depth. An Elite Alpha reopens the bond bite at each heat which , together with the protein in sperm and the double knot passing through the cervix , prevents that hormonal cycle.”  
Greg looked speechless. “ That has to hurt like heck. Poor little sod!”  
“ They can simulate the knotting process but that wouldn’t prevent all swelling and pain without the hormonal triggers of a real mating…you can only fool a body so many times.” John added flatly.

“I was expecting my brother to be forced to try and attend an ER from sheer necessity at some point during these six months, as I am sure was Charles Magnussen. I’ve been ready to act in any such event. He hasn’t and I very much suspect if Sherlock had done so that Magnussen's men would already have been in a confrontation with my own in the attempt to recover him , which we know has not happened. The fact that Sherlock hasn’t needed medical attention.... added to the pain of an unconsummated rut in close proximity to an Omega in heat ....Riddick would have suffered through that six times. He is unbonded , clearly interested and has no safe heat suite … its probable whatever romantic relationship existed has now become sexual… Sherlock should be in severe pain by now.” Mycroft’s voice faded .

“ If I was Riddick and Sherlock was in pain the last place I’d take him would be a state hospital with all that form filling.” John was thoughtful.  
“ An Omega free clinic?” Greg saw at once how John was thinking. He agreed.  
“Makes sense,” John nodded. “ All Omega or Beta staff and predisposed to be sympathetic. I can ask around Mycroft? I have some contacts I can use. Sherlock would stand out even if staff thought Alan was Sherlock’s Alpha, or if they behaved as if he was. ”  
“You’ve met him John , the man would never be mistaken for an Elite Alpha. “ Mycroft dismissed the very idea, his tone crisp. “ It's a sound assumption. I’m sure the staff would speak with you , that’s most helpful John. Thank you.”

“You’ve met Riddick?” Aric asked as soon as Mycroft finished speaking. “When did you meet him John?”  
“Years ago , at school. He’s the bastard who stood by Sherlock so he couldn’t leave the hall, he’s the same bastard carried Sherlock out to Magnussen’s helicopter the day he was taken.” John’s anger had barely diminished it coloured his voice.  
Greg looked at John with empathy, instantly recalling late night, bedtime conversations they had shared about the trauma of that day.  
John drained his Scotch in one hard swallow.  
“What is your opinion of Riddick as a credible witness Mycroft? If of course he agrees to testify bearing in mind the risks it would entail?”  
“Very good, despite my personal dislike of the man. He's capable and was personally selected by Magnussen....if he agrees to speak at the Bond Court knowing what may happen.” Mycroft replied thoughtfully.

“What risks?” John was quick to ask.  
“If he is proven to have had unlawful carnal knowledge of Magnussen’s Omega …a criminal offence….then he faces a prison sentence.” Aric's reply was steady.  
Greg interrupted. “ Even if Sherlock consented?”  
Mycroft looked conflicted. “Sherlock can’t consent Gregory. He is Magnussen’s property in much the same way as a car or a house are…bond law is absolute on that issue.”  
“Shit!” Paul was horrified.  
John added, the pity in his voice easy to interpret.  
“Sherlock’s opinion doesn’t matter to any of them Greg, he is an Elite bonded Omega… its only ‘his’ body in so far as he inhabits it physically. Sick as it is...think of him as Magnussen’s sex slave, his body isn't his own any more …that's basically what bond law forces him into being.”  
Greg stared. Sympathetic awareness in his eyes.

Aric Weber’s matter of fact Austrian voice spoke into the silence. “ If they are lover's then Riddick may well choose to see the greater picture and sacrifice his liberty for Sherlock in the hope that afterwards Sherlock will remain with him… of course that depends on Magnussen being forced to relinquish his prior claim as Sherlock’s Alpha. If they are not lover's then Riddick’s motivation to serve a prison term will understandably be reduced, would you face a criminal record for someone you merely feel paternally about?”

To everyone’s surprise it was John who spoke first, his warm voice bleakly grief stricken. “ If Riddick already is Sherlock’s lover and Sherlock loses him like that he’ll feel personally responsible. He’ll be devastated by guilt Mycroft is there no way to avoid that? He needs to feel safe with the people he cares about; not to have any one of them snatched away, that’s about the worst outcome I can imagine for him before he has even had a chance to adapt to the shock of being back home and it will be a huge shock to him Mycroft, no matter what we do. I've helped enough Omega to be sure of that. You can expect him to be traumatised, with all that entails. If Riddick makes Sherlock feel safer he needs him.”  
Mycroft’s astute blue grey stare looked at John with dawning recognition of the selfless, dedicated nature of the man before he nodded. 

Later when every guest had gone Mycroft stared into the bottom of his whisky tumbler. “I had no idea John was prepared to sacrifice so much personally..even when he may end up losing Sherlock?.”  
Greg’s voice was softened round the edges by whisky and the emotional memories of the past. “ He’d do anything it takes for Sherlock . What happened to your brother haunts John. It’s made him who he is Mycroft……he blames himself. Thinks he never asked the right questions to find out who Sherlock’s Alpha was, thinks he should have seen the threat Magnussen posed far faster. “ Greg took a last mouthful of malt and concentrated on its peaty richness to calm himself before he swallowed. “ He has nightmares about that day that look like PTSD, wakes covered in sweat and yelling for your brother.”  
Greg’s intuitive , honest brown eyes met Mycroft’s. “But you’d know all about that….wouldn’t you….?"


	34. Loving The Bones Of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things change......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> Sherlock disassociates ... if you've experienced this you know how weird it is so the warning is for that , just in case...everything that happens is consensual ...but there are a few shaky moments.
> 
> The word Riddick uses..."bide "...just means stay there and calm down.
> 
> I've been asked what the end pairing for Sherlock will be and what John will mean to him ...I can't answer that without giving away so much more of the plot and making all my twists and reveals a bit pointless.  
> Sorry I can't be more open but its impossible.
> 
> I've been very upfront about the possibility of Riddick and Sherlock being more than just friends... I feel like it's the right time for that complication in Sherlock's story... 
> 
>    
> Blue ...Track is Skeletons by James Arthur

There was something shifting between them. Soft as footsteps in new fallen snow. Gentle as a sighed breath shared between lovers.  
The day was full of hours to be lived through. Alan went through the motions…chopping logs, clearing snow, staring at that pale-yellow sun through trees backlit with silver light, the air so cold it hurt his face.  
He saw Sherlock doing the same…carrying log after log to the porch to stack them, using his gloved hands to push the snow away from the window sills so, if they wanted too, they could open them and let the pure , clear air in. Alan watched him without words , knowing the lad was quietly thinking under everything he did.  
When the chores were done, Riddick had time to coax a smile… building a flock of birds made from snow along the wooden railing of the deck, all of them huddled against each other, each one crafted with love, perfectly formed.  
Much later, when Alan had lit the fire and the sky was dark, he looked out the window at the polar lights and saw Sherlock crouched down, just looking at the white snow birds as if they were real and a sudden movement could startle them all into flight.

The damp logs spat and hissed, the smell of burning pine and fir resin mixed seamlessly with Sherlock’s warm vanilla scent and made Alan breathe deep and fill his lungs.  
As the fire began to flicker between the logs with tongues of orange flame Riddick saw a spider run out of a fissure in the bark of a log into its own immolation, consumed within seconds, gone as though it never existed.

Darkness covered them like a blanket. Amber firelight flickering over Alan’s relaxed socked feet and low sprawled legs.  
Sherlock drew closer to the hearth, sat cross legged and supple, close to Alan on the floor boards in front of the old couch and held out his perfect, arched hands towards the blaze, long fingers spread wide.  
Alan looked through Sherlock’s outstretched fingers at the fire beyond and at the boy’s pure profile illuminated by the flames, with his long, dark eyelashes and high cheekbones and knew he’d never see anyone more beautiful.

Sherlock’s head lent sideways against the solid, relaxed muscle of Alan’s thigh and Riddick waited for his sharp feeling of longing to settle before he let his fingers stroke gently through the boy’s short hair. Underneath Alan’s broad fingers lay every memory and thought the boy had ever had, protected and hidden from the world inside the fragile skull Magnussen had punched so many times, uncaring.  
Riddick swallowed around the complex knot of emotions in his throat… love and loss , need and desire, hope and trust and knew with certainty what this barely hidden thing that lay between them all day was. He kept his fingers moving, caressing each invisible mark of every blow he’d ever seen the lad given; as though he could smooth it away forever…. letting Sherlock grow used to his touch.

Sherlock closed his eyes and thought about the snow birds Alan had shaped for him with quiet patience and love.  
The past kept creeping in today, sensing change… for a visceral instant Sherlock remembered all those huge scented bouquets filling the empty rooms Charles raped him in and how the perfumed scent of them had flooded his panicked, shallow breathing with a sweetness that was almost as suffocating as the hard hands round his throat.  
This room …this home… smelt nothing like Apple Dore. The cabin Alan had built himself held its own mix of warm scents … worn wooden floor boards and burning logs that smelt of the Finnish woods they’d grown in. Alan’s clothes smelt of fresh air and the frozen snow that fell in softly falling silent flakes and covered their world in a deadly beauty. 

Sherlock turned his face and pressed his sharp cheekbone against the strong, muscle of Alan’s relaxed thigh, breathing that safe Alpha smell in to the very bottom of his lungs. Alan’s thumb stroked a slow path over the raised curve of Sherlock’s high cheek bone and Sherlock sat still, leaning on Riddick’s thigh and let him.  
All day long there had been something new building between them, edging closer with each shared glance, skirting around them every time they came together and Sherlock knew it now for what it was. The beat of his heart told its own truth.  
Time moved until the fire was all embers and ash. Its flickering independent flames surrendering to the night. 

“Bed?.” One tiny word but once said its echo lingered.

Sherlock stood in the tiny bathroom and made himself look at his pale angular face in the mirror, at his dark blue eyes and pink, parted lips and refused to let his gaze flinch away. He couldn’t see what Alan saw in him.  
Behind him in the mirror, reflected through the open door, the bed stood empty and waiting. Two pillows side by side.

Alan almost knocked on his own bedroom door; seeking a clear permission before he came in, even though he knew that would have been crazy. It was their shared room now for every day of the close lived months they'd spent together.  
In his chest, his heart beat like one of the huge Lambeg drums he’d heard the Orange sash men march behind in Belfast, so loud in those narrow terraced streets they shook your bones inside your body.  
If he’d read this wrong ….

As he brushed his teeth twice and spat into the sink Riddick’s eyes in the mirror found Sherlock’s curled shape laid on his side in the middle of the bed facing Alan’s pillow.  
Alan’s stared at his reflection critically, seeing the nervousness in his own eyes. He closed his mind on the memories of seeing that same worry all those years ago on his wedding night when it’d been Billy’s head on the pillow waiting for him to prove he could be trusted.  
If he got this wrong….

Sherlock had lit candles instead of the lamp. They flickered strange, eerie patterns along the wall and smelt of beeswax and left the edges of the room beyond the bed in darkness. The blankets Alan usually slept under were folded on the floor at the foot of the bed and Alan knew then that his instinct was right and that every pulse of his body hadn’t been wrong.  
As Alan reached for the duvet to get inside the bed, Sherlock’s eyes were still closed. It was only when Riddick was there settled on his back with his head on the pillow , eyes staring at the fluttering shadows on the ceiling, that Sherlock opened them.  
The grave trust in the Omega’s eyes felt as solemn as a vow.  
Alan’s breath slowed as he raised the boy’s wrist to his mouth, kissing over the deep,scars that slashed across the boys pale skin with even whiter lines. It was almost a benediction.  
If he did something to ruin this….

Between them lay a silence heavy with unspoken promises.  
Alan looked up into the otherworldly , inky blue of Sherlock’s eyes when the Omega rolled over and bent his head down to touch the supple, soft curve of his own lips to the strong shape of Riddick’s mouth.  
As he moved to cradle Sherlock’s face in his palm Alan spoke. “ If it’s no at any time… I can stop.”  
Sherlock lowered his light frame on top of Alan’s carefully , settling his body along Riddick’s own until he was laying above him looking down into Alan’s eyes . He pressed his answer into Alan’s mouth, two soft words spoken against Alan’s lips as they opened to receive them, with a sweet, pure faith behind them that made Alan’s chest ache. “ I know…” 

Beneath them the bed moved as Alan’s warm palms slid under Sherlock’s t-shirt , found the fragile cage of the boy’s ribs and held there with a gentle, settling pressure , feeling the bones move with every breath Sherlock took right up until the second Riddick’s mouth claimed his.  
Alpha to Omega , lock and key….seeking their own answer, needing to know if they would fit together.  
Alan felt Sherlock’s ribs expand in a shocked gasp of pleasure between his hands and for a minute it was all Riddick could do to breathe as his heart thumped and his body settled.  
“Yes?” He heard the breathless desire , the desperate love and the need for reassurance under his question and held still for Sherlock’s answer while inside his body hope surged.  
Sherlock’s eyes opened so Riddick could see and know; hiding nothing. The dark , rich blue of his iris indistinct and smudged as though he was in heat and his voice coloured with its own raw, fragile love , unfurling like rich, red blood into still clear water as it bled from his heart. Dazed with relief as he answered. “ Yes. Alan….Yes.” 

Beneath Sherlock finger tips as they traced the flat , shaped muscles of Riddick’s bare chest, the Alpha’s every inhalation was a low aroused growl that rumbled from his chest and made Sherlock lay his cheek over Alan’s heart to hear it better.  
“Sorry. It’s noisy. I know.” Alan’s awkward apology was shadowed by desire.  
Sherlock lifted his head and shook it with a smile.”It’s nice.”

Riddick’s skin was warm and tanned when Sherlock uncovered it, firm muscle covered bone and low on Alan’s belly where Sherlock had never seen or touched before there was a secret hidden.  
He kissed down Alan’s body until he reached it..  
“ Alan…?” Sherlock’s voice was breathless, his warm gasped words covered the tattooed skin he’d found as he stared at it in awe.” Why is there a sheep in a bra and thong?”  
Alan’s low embarrassed groan rumbled with pleasure “Army. Welsh man’s bet… Couldn’t drink a bottle of whisky stood on my head...Thought I could.”  
“Understandably.” Sherlock said seriously and kissed over it; right on the sheep’s arse.

Alan’s hands traced Sherlock’s spine from waist to neck, his calloused finger tip’s following that shallow indentation slowly, stroking gently over the shape of each small bone as he held Sherlock’s inky eyes with his own. “Even your bones are beautiful lovely lad.”  
When he touched the boy’s bond bite Sherlock gave a shiver and now as Alan kissed him with a slow , intense heat he felt the Omega’s sharp hips move against him for the first time.  
As Sherlock’s slim thighs slid either side of Alan’s body he felt the slim bulge of his cock brush the lean tight muscle of Alan’s own body and just for a second Sherlock faltered and looked lost.  
Riddick’s arms went round him and held him tight, lending the boy his strength, mumbled love words scattered between his kisses as he covered Sherlock’s beautiful bare skin in promises.

The candle light flickered as though it wasn’t sure it should illuminate Alan’s hands as they undid the one button at the waist of Sherlock’s pj’s and lay wide that small v- shaped gap so he could kiss the fine dusting of short dark hair he’d once watched Magnussen tongue while Sherlock had stared heartbroken and stiff with fear at a blank wall.  
Riddick turned his head and laid his cheek against Sherlock , low down , resting against that newly exposed pale skin. 

 

When Alan touched his lips to the same place reverently Sherlock sucked his breath in and held it and Alan looked up at him to be sure it was still ok even though he could see the shape of Sherlock’s hard cock so close to his mouth that Alan could almost feel it on his tongue already.  
Sherlock’s hand was fisted nervously on the bed beside his thigh and Alan reached up and took it in his own, slotting their fingers together with their hands linked palm to palm before he turned his head and left a kiss on the prominent bones of Sherlock’s hip, his lips warm through Sherlock’s pj bottoms.  
“Alright love? ” Alan’s fingers were on Sherlock’s waistband , waiting for Sherlock to say it was ok.  
Sherlock couldn’t trust his voice. Inside him his heart was thumping to its own devastating beat. A nod was all the answer he gave. Eyes dark and nervous , looking to Alan to know what should happen. 

“ Want to stop here?” Alan still asked and Sherlock loved him for that.  
“No. But… you … first.” Sherlock’s said it all on one breath. 

Riddick sat up on the edge of the old mattress as it dipped down . Sliding his pyjama bottoms under his arse and down his thighs with a shift of his weight on the bed and Sherlock found himself looking at the firm masculine shape of Alan’s arse with its strong muscle and smooth skin.  
Naked and sat on the side of the bed Alan stayed still , letting Sherlock look without being looked at, waiting before he turned around.  
Low on Alan’s side there was a thin scar that ran over his hip and Sherlock didn’t need to ask to know it came from a knife blade. “Someone stabbed you?” Sherlock concentrated on that fact, making sure to keep each breath slow refusing to let his own fear defeat him.  
“Aye, they did. Came back late to barracks one night. I didn’t see one had a blade.”  
“When ?” Sherlock wanted to know.  
“When I was eighteen.”  
Sherlock touched his narrow palm to this scar that would once have been a slit in Alan’s warm skin through which the flesh underneath, that made up the man, must have showed red and raw when Billy had still been alive to love him.  
They had both come so far and suffered so much to be here. 

Sherlock moved back on the bed making room for Riddick to lay down naked on it with him in unspoken invitation.  
It took him a minute to look at Alan. He’d wondered what lay under the Alpha’s clothes but now he’d know.  
When he looked Alan’s lower belly was girded with muscle. The Alpha’s thick cock lay heavily against his strong thigh, partially hard.  
He was much bigger than Charles but Sherlock shut his mind to what that meant and looked for what wasn’t the same about Alan’s body  
There was no second knot under Alan’s full head…it was covered by a foreskin that looked soft to touch, pulled back just a little. That was different. Dark short hair clustered round the base where cock met body, the knot there already beginning to swell and the skin flushed darkly. 

Alan didn’t move. He kept his voice low and calm as if Sherlock was afraid even though he’d said nothing. “ Still alright?”  
“ I…..” Sherlock lost his words and panicked for a second.  
" O shit!” Alan reached for his discarded pj bottoms to cover himself, rolling half of the bed in one fast move to grab them up from the floor and Sherlock caught his wrist just as Alan had them in one hand..  
“ No…” Sherlock pulled at them , tugging them gently free from Riddick’s grasp and letting them fall back to the floor.  
Alan held his breath as Sherlock slid down the bed and touched him.

 

Riddick dragged in another ragged inhalation. Hands pushed so hard into the padding of the mattress that he could feel its coiled springs as his fingers dug deep.  
“F…fuck!” The word was hidden in a growl.  
Sherlock raised his head to look. His gaze dark and bewildered now that his eyes were open.  
Alan’s body ached to thrust up, he could feel that need to move coiled hard round his cock and spreading outwards like a burn, scorching through the tense muscle at the tops of his thighs.  
Riddick stared desperately down the bed at the Omega’s beautiful mouth …at the damp, licked swelling of Sherlock’s decadent lips and the wet, sucked hardness of his own standing cock…at the flushed pink of the boy’s high cheeks… at Sherlock, laid with one thin arm thrown over Alan’s thigh, holding the Alpha down as so he could touch mouth to skin.  
“Don’t move Alan…” Sherlock told him again, his voice as soft and loving as Alan had ever heard it and that was all he said before his wet mouth slid around and back down.

Alan’s growled pleasure made Sherlock wonder if a lion could purr because if they did , they’d surely sound like this.  
Desire rumbled helplessly up from Alan’s chest with every sucking pull of Sherlock’s lips, his mouth a warm wet hollow slide working the fine skin of Alan’s cock along his shaft.  
Alan’s love words were gasped promises lost on each panted exhalation as Sherlock took him closer to the edge and waited for him to fall. 

“Christ … O… Christ.” Riddick groaned between the words, Sherlock heard how blinded by need he was from just this and he pulled his mouth away and made his choice for good or bad.  
Wet and rock hard , teetering right on the edge of coming… the loss of Sherlock’s hot mouth came as a shock and Alan fought to focus and calm himself. It took all his self control not to beg.  
Sherlock lay still, his face rested sideways on Alan’s hip close to the Alpha’s cock. His hand stroked around the base of Alan’s cock and Riddick held his breath in case he broke the spell.  
Sherlock looked up. “ I don’t want you to… not like this…. please? Can we …together?“  
Alan held his hand out and bought Sherlock back into his arms.

Sherlock had been wrong. He’d thought he wanted to be in control , making the Alpha less of a threat, but all he’d felt was lost and lonely. With Alan’s arms round him he was safe.

When Alan kissed him now there was a heated intense Alpha strength behind his kiss that left Sherlock pushing closer, demanding more of everything.  
Alan’s mouth moved to Sherlock’s neck; found the tiny , hard little scent gland beneath the Omega’s skin and nosed at it and Sherlock arched his neck submissively before he knew he was going to do so.  
Instinct.  
Riddick covered the gland, sucking it into his mouth ; his warm , loving growl vibrating over Sherlock’s skin as his strong hips rolled his cock against the Omega’s.

Sherlock moaned as the thickened heavy shape of Alan’s cock pressed between their bodies, rubbing alongside the smaller hard shape of his own, thin cotton jersey keeping their skin apart and suddenly he didn’t need that safety anymore.  
“Alan … Alan…..” His hips gave their own push against Alan’s thrust and sparks of pleasure fired like white flashes of lightning in a sky full of thunder.  
“ You sure?” Riddick’s fingers traced over the waistband when it lay along the small of Sherlock’s back and slid into the hollow where they stretched across his spine, waiting .  
Alan’s mouth pressed a strong kiss to Sherlock’s lips and when the Omega’s body surged up to meet his Riddick kissed him again without waiting for his answer until Sherlock pulled back and panted “Please…” pushing blind with need at the stupid pj’s, wanting them gone and Alan’s skin bare and smooth against his body.  
Alan's low smoky growl made Sherlock shiver.

With Sherlock laid bare ; a sacrificial lamb spread out upon the dark grey sheet of the bed, Alan found he hadn’t any words to say about how beautiful the boy was that could be spoken without tears ….instead he laid his lips to the flat plane of Sherlock’s body, low down between the bony prominence of his hips , swore he’d love him forever and let his hand close round Sherlock’s cock to caress it.  
Alan was careful.. so gentle …as his mouth sank around the boy.  
Sherlock’s hand reached down for Alan’s, blindly seeking reassurance , Riddick held it tight.

Sherlock writhed on the pillow with every sucking swallow, moaning with a low urgency as Alan’s mouth drew back up his shaft , keeping that dirty, wet heat and constant pressure that made the Omega twist .  
He took his time sucking the lad deeper, making each pulling lip twist and rub of his tongue around the boy’s beautiful cock harder until Sherlock was moaning his name, legs wrapping round Alan’s body and Riddick throated him then; keeping it gentle, driving his mouth down and pulling it back with a low growl as Sherlock cried out his pleasure and let his slim hips drive up.  
Alan took each thrust and sucked for more.

Kneeling up on on the bed.  
Sherlock felt like he could barely breathe. Hot and flushed, his mind drifting away then coming back to him like a wave on a rock.  
Riddick’s knees were spread wide with Sherlock’s legs locked outside of Alan’s own.  
The Alpha behind him; strong thighs wide to keep his body low and his broad arm curved round Sherlock’s chest holding him up, muzzling at the swollen welts of the boy’s bond bite, keeping him close and loved as his other palm closed round Sherlock’s cock.  
The taut muscled shape of Sherlock’s arse bought close against Alan’s hard cock.  
Alan loved the sound of their tangled breathing, his own intently focused hot desire and under it, confused and desperate, Sherlock’s bewildered shaken gasps.

Everything was new and everything was changing and this was nothing like it had been before.

Alan didn’t shove him roughly down onto all fours …his hands guided, holding lightly around the Omega’s waist as he went forward onto hands and knees , then submissively slid down further when Alan pressed lightly on his spine and stroked his hand down until the Omega was leaning forward onto his skinny forearms with his flushed cheek turned against the mattress.  
When Alan pulled back a little Sherlock tensed, because everything he knew told him that this would hurt but Alan’s hand reached around his shaking thighs and covered his cock in caresses, before his mouth found him and Sherlock shuddered as Alan tongued him with a slow heated concentration until Sherlock was rocking forward and back caught between the twin pleasures of the Alpha’s hand and tongue.

Sherlock saw the moment when Alan reached under his pillow and his hand came up holding two silver sachets of lube. For a insane moment all he could think of was the story of Anne Boleyn at her beheading and how her executioner had hidden the long French sword under the straw of her scaffold so she shouldn’t see it and be afraid before she died.  
He knew his breathing was erratic as Alan’s lubed finger slid slowly down the spine right to its end, stroking wetly over his clenched, puckered hole until it let him in, opening Sherlock up carefully like a secret he was learning by touch alone. Reading him like braille.

 

Alan knew he was big. Too big? That he didn’t know.  
Sherlock was so quiet as he entered him. All Riddick heard was breathing and a single low moaned cry.  
Now he was doing this Riddick was scared Sherlock was frozen in place, paralysed with fear.  
Should he stop?  
Sherlock’s body started to move , his hips stayed still but his arms moved restlessly; forward and back as though he didn’t know which way he needed to move ….away or back.

Sherlock didn’t know he was fading , going somewhere outside his body until he felt nothing.  
He came back into his body suddenly and he was back on all fours, hands moving on the mattress like he was trying to walk away on them, shifting his weight forward and back with Riddick halfway inside him.  
For a single terrified second it felt the same.

Alan’s warm hands landed flat with fingers spread out over the small of his back and rubbed a comforting circle.  
“Shush…I’ve got you love. I know..it's a lot... I know.” Alan was still. “ Just drop your back flatter.” The hand on his back slid round to rub a slow streak of heat into Sherlock’s tensed stomach muscles.  
Sherlock could barely remember why he had thought he could do this. He knew now he’d arched his back up to get away from it but he didn’t remember any of it happening and now it had he didn’t think he could move his spine back down with Alan’s cock in him…. he felt Riddick’s hands massage the stiff scared muscle of his hunched shoulders… and somehow when he did the pressure eased.  
“Want me out?” Riddick’s voice was calm.He held very still.  
Sherlock didn’t. It was almost done. “No…I don’t….I don’t know… what to do….”  
Alan ran a hand down Sherlock’s spine feeling the small bump of every raised bone under his palm. Sherlock was sweating…his skin flushed.  
“ Do …something…” Sherlock’s gasp sounded pained.  
Alan realised then that despite all the times he’d seen the Omega being taken Sherlock didn’t know any of the little ways that made that first push inside any easier.

“Couldn't all be easy.” Alan’s steady voice was soothing. “I’m going to move you so your back’s flat, just a little before I push…when you feel pressure this time you push down like you want me out and I’ll go in better. That make sense?”  
Sherlock panted . “ Don’t hurt me!”  
“Just for a second…..it always hurts for a second.” Alan was honest.  
Before Sherlock could tense up more Alan knew he had to do this.  
Sherlock gave a shocked cry as Alan’s hand slid round and eased him back and down.

He was lower to the bed now and as Alan pushed in, slow and steady, Sherlock was overwhelmed with hard pressure and for a second he did want Alan out of his body and he bore down to push him back out but then he was all in and thrusting three times and Sherlock was gasping as that pressure changed.  
“That’s the way love. That’s it!”  
Now he was doing it Sherlock felt sheer relief over everything , he knew he was panting , short sharp shuddering gasps every time Alan’s cock moved and then,just as he tried to control that, Riddick’s cock brushed over his prostrate inside him and Sherlock’s whole body lit up like a every nerve ending had just caught fire.  
The sound Sherlock made was almost fearful. He went down onto his belly in instant panic , leaving Alan with no choice but to follow him down to the bed to keep his cock in.

On the sheet next to Sherlock’s head his hand was fisted but the sounds he made as Alan laid on top of him and rocked his hips deep told Riddick he was on the tipping point of pleasure.  
Alan took hold of his wrist and rubbed it.  
Fuck… he was so tight. Alan tried to breath and calm and slow his hips down.

Sherlock was moaning , he couldn’t stop himself , low sounds deep in his throat caught between pleasure and shame and Alan slid one arm under the Omega and held him as he fucked him, the strong muscles of his arse moving under his skin as he thrust inside the boy.  
“Oh….Oh….Oh God!”  
Alan turned Sherlock’s fisted hand over , opened it up and interlocked it with his.  
“ Oh ….God ….that’s …so good!” Sherlock looked distressed, flushed red and open mouthed beneath him on the bed , making agonised , wordless cries but Riddick knew he wasn’t , he could feel the firm swelling of the boy’s prostrate under his cock.  
Alan knew he couldn’t last long. Any minute now this would all be over.

He took the Omega hard then , mouthing at the scarred skin of Sherlock's neck to loosen his tight body up , before locking his linked fingers over the lad’s bond bite like a cage, protecting him from even the small chance he would bite as he thrust into him over and over.  
Under him Sherlock gave cry after cry and his body spasmed round Riddick's cock…  
Alan heard the Omega cry out as his body clenched hard but he fucked him through that spasm and hit his prostrate again and again until Sherlock gave a second helpless , shattered cry and this time Alan pushed a hand underneath him and caught his cock so he could cover his fingers in the boys come when he came.

“Mine.” Alan knew he’d snarled it but it was instinct.  
One pull and Sherlock was spilling between Alan’s fingers.  
Riddick thrust frantically again and again, before he followed….his mind stopped thinking and all he could feel was the pulsing of his cock before the feeling of Sherlock’s tight heat wrapped round him was so intense he lost control and he was coming with short sharp fierce bursts of ecstasy.

In the silence after Sherlock lay protected by the Alpha’s body.  
Riddick’s breath was so hot on Sherlock’s bite that it was making him want to close his eyes and sleep.  
Alan’s careful pull out wasn’t nice , the unromantic rush of hot Alpha seed was inevitable and Sherlock said something under his breath that sounded a lot like ‘yuck’.  
Riddick kissed what he could see of Sherlock’s angelic face. “Yuck?” Riddick teased softly. “ Really though?….Yuck?”  
Sherlock’s half hidden lips curved up at the corners, smiling.  
“ As in yuck the whole thing or ….?”  
” Stop fishing for a performance review.” Sherlock sounded sleepy but even so he was teasing back.  
Alan grinned. “ Well as long as you have it ready and typed up by the morning ...”  
“Idiot.” Only Sherlock could make that sound like a I Love You.  
Alan knew it meant that but still…..

 

The candles were out and the room was dark. Alan had Sherlock held tight in his arms, almost asleep.  
Sherlock moved a little, fidgeting and Riddick pressed a kiss into the Omega’s hair like he was a child scared of the dark.  
“Bide.” Alan used the local word without thinking.  
Sherlock ignored him and pushed closer and Alan hugged him harder.  
There was silence .  
“Alan?”  
“Hmm?”  
“I love you…………”  
“I know lad. Took you long enough to work it out though.”  
“ I love you…idiot.” And strangely Alan loved that version just as much.


	35. Master and Servant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Count Alexei indulge themselves in private....safe in Alexei's St Petersburg home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alexei calls Sasha a cyka ...the Russian word means bitch.  
> idi syuda .... come here.
> 
> Track is Or So It Seems by Duet Emmo

Charles Magnussen stared morosely into the huge ornate fireplace. He was deeply dissatisfied.  
Count Alexei waved his empty glass in the vague direction of the silent butler stood impassively behind his chair and the man stepped forward and filled his glass instantly.

Both Elite Alpha ignored the smothered sound of heavy, thickened, sobbing breathing and low buzzing coming from the middle of the dark room as though it didn’t exist.

“Hurry up with those cigars Sasha you ball-less whore before I tighten that cock ring and cut you in two.” Alexei sounded drunk, his luxuriant, arrogant voice slurring around the sounds in each word.  
Sasha didn’t show any reaction to the insult as he stopped before Charles, opening the lid of the walnut and inlaid ivory cigar humidor he was carrying so Charles could select his own Cuban cigar.

“Get down on your knees you worthless cyka. How dare you stand over an Alpha when you serve them. Are you our equal? Omega whore.” The dismissal in the Alpha’s voice was clear.  
Charles cast a cold eye over the other man’s Omega as Sasha knelt naked in the fluctuating fire light.  
Although Sasha didn’t drop his eyes when Magnussen stared at him; his face was wiped clean of all expression. Blandly accepting.

The Omega closed the cigar humidor and eased back onto his heels ready to stand.  
“Idi syuda. Crawl to me on your knees. Grovel you faded bitch.” Alexei didn’t spare his Omega another glance as he did as he had been asked.  
When Sasha reached him, the Count choose a fat cigar and sliced off the end with a solid gold cigar cutter before he lit it, inhaling deeply.  
Sasha remained on his knees, ignored by both men, of no importance.

“Tell me Charles are you any closer to retrieving Sherlock?”  
“Some surveillance camera footage from a week ago.” Charles spoke with a flatly controlled anger. “The private investigator I hired claims to be close… but still not close enough to locate them.”

Alexei took a mouthful of vodka.” I know of a man, who would be happy to assist you for the right price. He has his own methods that are often more productive… if less legal… he tends to employ those who can open mouths that would otherwise have remained closed. If not he may well serve you in other ways should the Bond Court rule against you .”  
Charles raised an eyebrow as he savoured a mouthful of cognac. “You believe he would be successful in recovering Sherlock?”  
“I do. Consider his services my gift to you for as long as it takes.”  
Magnussen nodded by way of a thank you.

“You still desire Sherlock? After…all the ungrateful slut has done? I know of a beauty from Ukraine, 15 and flawless; who is yours for the asking. Of course he lacks Sherlock’s bloodline and rarity; one couldn’t breed him... but as a distraction he may serve?  
Open your mouth and hold out your tongue ashtray.”  
When Sasha obeyed, the Alpha tapped the ash from his cigar onto his Omega’s tongue.”Close.”  
Sasha did so wordlessly.

Charles held out his glass and waited for it to be refilled. “No mere beauty can rival Sherlock or hold my interest as his body has done. You know well how exceptional he is…. Sherlock is mine. One way or another he will remain so.”  
Alexei smiled wolfishly. “I thought so. I know you well. But what if the Bond Court dares to find against you? Mycroft Holmes is now a man of much influence and growing power among the English Elite is he not?”  
Charles raised his glass. “Mycroft Holmes is an Elite Alpha who has never had his cock inside any Omega. The man is weak. I am not. His brother belongs to me by right; no Court ruling will stop me reclaiming my property…legally or illegally…I will have him again regardless.”

Sasha made sure he stared emptily ahead as if he didn’t hear a word of what was being said.  
“ Open up.” More cigar ash was added to the wet mound on Sasha’s tongue. “As you wish. I would do the same were my own Omega as desirable as Sherlock is ; instead of this pathetic mess.” Alexei gestured dismissively at Sasha.  
“Since you mentioned pathetic messes…shall we finish with tonight’s little fuck toy? His snivelling is starting to annoy me.”  
Charles looked behind them at the BDSM frame to which a petrified, pale skinned boy, wearing a leather gag that obscured half of his face, was chained at wrist and ankle. There was a huge dildo embedded in his arse and strapped around him. It was vibrating loudly.

” He was barely worth the effort. Loose before we had even stretched him.”  
“Not every arse can be as tight as your Sherlock’s.” Alexei laughed. “Sasha is now so slack he makes a better ashtray than he does a hole to fuck.”  
Sasha concentrated on breathing slowly in and out. Even so Magnussen gave him a cold, deadly stare as though he could see inside the Omega’s head at his hidden angry thoughts and Sasha made sure he stared straight ahead at nothing; as though he was deaf.  
Alexei bent forward and threw what remained of his cigar into the fire before beckoning his butler forward. “Escort Sasha to his private rooms , lock him in and see we are not disturbed. I will ring for you when I require your service again.”

As the door closed behind his Omega Alexei sighed. “If he wasn’t the mother of my children I would take him outside into the forest and shoot him , it would be a mercy, his looks are gone…. I should have chosen a young boy as you did; beautiful for longer. “  
“ Sherlock has no equal for me; even soiled as he is by what he has done ; once I can punish him adequately I will still desire him.” Charles eyes were cold and heartless.  
“You will let the little cock whore live after then?” Alexei laughed, cruelly amused, before both Alpha stood and walked towards the bound figure of the boy fastened to the BDSM frame.  
“Of course… what is one moment of satisfaction compared to the prospect of truly owning him. This time there will be no escape from the cage I have built him.”  
“And your ex employee? The man you promoted and favoured? What revenge will you have there?”  
Charles had the empty , black eyes of a shark, his smile dead and cold, a mere rictus of his thin, spiteful mouth. “One that Sherlock will never forget witnessing.”

The sound of muffled wet gasping increased as Magnussen twisted hard fingers into the dark curled hair of the boy visible above the black leather gag that covered his face, with its ring keeping the Omega’s mouth on a wide open O and pulled his head back savagely , the restraints rattled as the young Omega fought violently to free himself.  
" The passing resemblance to Sherlock amused me as you knew it would but his body disappointed in every regard. " 

Alexei released the boy from each restraint almost lovingly. Unable to stand the Omega fell forward to the floor helplessly. Alexei watched as the beaten Omega struggled to get onto his knees. The Alpha left the vibrator in the Omega's hole.  
“ Let the whore have his pleasure while he dies. Continue.” Alexei ordered and from the shadows came another man. Bald headed with a brutal face and huge hands. Strange scars and army tattoos covered his forearms. “You see those scars on his arms Charles?”  
Charles gave an impatient nod, already half erect, the prospect of what he was about to view arousing him for the first time that night..  
“They come from each victim, they claw at his arms with their finger nails in the struggle to live and breathe. The strength in his bare hands is exceptional. To see him work like this, close up as he takes a life ,is rare indeed.”

The Omega’s eyes were huge with blind terror and he flailed hopelessly on his back as the Golem crouched down beside him and reached for his neck.


	36. Fear Inside You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lars has unexpected visitors...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lars ...  
> Voi vittu.. basically means....Oh crap!  
> Voinko auttaa sinua?....can I help you?
> 
> Sherlock ..  
> Er det sikkert? ..is it safe?
> 
> Track...Never Seen You Get So Low by Aquillo

Lars pushed the door open with his hip , hands full of three heavy bags of shopping and a laptop case under one arm made everything impossible and as he squeezed past the guy who lived downstairs new bicycle, parked in the narrow porch , the brake snagged a gaping hole through one of his bags .  
“Voi vittu!” Halfway up the second flight of stairs a can of chick peas dropped out of the large hole in the bag and began to roll down each step noisily. Lars ignored it, meaning to go back and retrieve it.  
When Lars reached his floor, he found himself in the dark, the landing light that had been working just that morning now wasn’t and Lars had to use the tiny torch on his keyring to see where he was going. There was another heavy fire door to struggle through before Lars could unlock his front door and as he looked for his keys the almond milk he had bought fell out and bruised the top of his foot. Perfect! 

The fire door banged again and Lars turned his head surprised as the other flat on his floor had been empty for some months.  
The anonymous, threatening shape of an Alpha filled the landing and Lars tensed, it wouldn’t be the first time an angry Alpha had accosted him outside his home …it would however be the first time that one had got inside the building.  
“Voinko autttaa sinua?” Lars kept his voice relaxed and feigned confidence as he pushed the door open. Stay calm…don’t react.  
From behind the Alpha’s powerful outline someone stepped out just a little so Lars could see enough to know he was another Omega, holding out the can of chick peas Lars had dropped down the stairs. “You dropped this.”  
Lars recognised the English words and the Elite accent... suddenly he knew who they both were.

“Didn’t mean to scare the crap out of you. We waited outside the clinic every night for a week then the lad here searched your number and came up with your address. He’s smart like that.” The Alpha looked past Lars as he spoke at the unlocked door behind him, checking nobody else was coming out.  
The man was still every bit as physically intimidating once you realised he meant no harm, the protective intent towards the young Omega was very evident in the Alpha's blocking stance. Normally Lars would never have agreed to let an unbonded Alpha he didn’t know very well inside his home but he had no choice, there was an Omega here he knew was in a vulnerable situation…. he opened the door fully and reached for the light, illuminating the hallway with its Ikea shoe rack and hanging coats.  
“ I was on heat leave. Please. Come inside.”  
He was surprised when the Alpha picked up all his shopping bags and his laptop in one hand and carried them in for him.

Lars was aware that the Alpha was monitoring his flat as though he suspected a hidden threat, it made him feel more than a little uneasy as he filled the coffee maker and took out three coffee mugs.  
The Elite Omega spoke quietly to the Alpha. "Er det sikkert?"…. asking a question in Danish and waited for the Alpha’s answering nod before he unzipped his black padded jacket. The boy hadn’t met Lars eyes yet , he moved out of the way and waited awkwardly by the fridge , watching the Alpha.  
Lars looked at the Elite Omega and noticed how thin he still was , the prominence of the lean , stretched dancers muscle of the boy's long legs all too obvious.

“You can put your coats on the table.” Lars watched as the Alpha took off his jacket, he knew he was staring when the gun the man was wearing in its holster was revealed. The Alpha met Lars eyes with a confrontational stare as if to say ‘ so what’ and the Omega took a moment to steady himself before asking brightly. “Coffee? I’ve cookies Will if you’re hungry?”

Will turned out to have a surprisingly sweet tooth , Lars watched as he ate at least one of every type of cookie in the top layer of the small golden tin.  
“ How’s the neck feeling Will? Any problems?”  
He didn’t miss the glance between Alpha and Elite Omega that seemed to say ‘ you speak for me.’  
“ This last week its been a bit sore in the afternoons. Nothing as bad as it was. “ The Alpha answered for the boy easily before he took a first swallow of hemp milk coffee and visibly gagged in disgust.  
“ Ugh…. sorry...This isn’t real milk?”  
“I’m vegan, its hemp milk.” Lars explained.  
He saw the boy hide his quick amused smile.  
“ Hemp...like the rope? Didn't even know that was a thing.“ The Alpha said , carefully putting his mug on the coffee table to his left.  
“ You get used to the taste….so, Will how can I help you? Is the bite uncomfortable?” Lars asked the question directly, hoping to push Will into answering directly.

“ My names not Will… it was, nobody ever calls me that now. Sherlock , my name's Sherlock.” Sherlock looked at the cookies as he spoke , avoiding eye contact nervously. The Alpha watched him closely.  
“Ok …Sherlock. Nice to meet the real you. You already know I’m Lars. And you are ?” Lars asked the Alpha directly.  
"Alan." The Alpha nodded.  
“So ..if its not the neck Sherlock then there’s another problem?"  
Sherlock flushed pink and looked to Alan.

The Alpha had the sense to look shamefaced as he answered Lars question. “ Things have changed...the lad …Sherlock…We had unprotected sex…”  
“ Okay.... you aren’t on any contraception currently Sherlock?”  
A embarrassed stiff shake of the head.  
“Alright, first thing I’ll need from you is a mid stream urine sample Sherlock. It’s unlikely with it happening just the once but we need to rule out a pregnancy first.”  
The Alpha looked at the boy apologetically.” It wasn’t …just the once…four times….”  
Lars stared…bloody Alpha, no common sense when their cock was hard! “Outside of a heat?” Hopefully.... or the boy was definitely pregnant.  
Sherlock nodded without looking up.  
“Ok…I’m going to give you a sample pot Sherlock , my bathroom is through that door , you pee a little first, then catch a sample for me when its a strong stream. I just need enough to dip a test kit.”  
Sherlock stood up fluidly. Lars searched his medical bag for a sample pot and Sherlock vanished into the bathroom.

“You really feel now would be a good time for Sherlock to have a pregnancy?” He was incredulous.  
“No…it didn’t cross either of our minds , it should have but …what’s done is done.”  
“ No prenatal care, he isn’t a healthy weight… do you both have a safe place to stay?... You can’t even Bond. What will happen if his Alpha finds him?” Lars was angry on the Elite Omega’s behalf.  
“Bloody Hell, don’t you think I know all that? Neither of us thought about it....” Alan sounded defensive , not the usual response from an Alpha being criticised by a Omega. He stopped talking abruptly as the bathroom door opened.  
“ I left it in the bathroom. By the sink.” Sherlock glanced at the Alpha.  
“Good. I’ll just dip the stick then we can get some of the other examinations out the way.”

Lars was incredulous as he tested the Elite Omega’s urine. He saw this so often but he never understood the cavalier attitude of many Alpha’s towards the creation of a life. If the Elite Omega was pregnant... what then?

When he came back into the room the Alpha stepped back from the Omega and Lars realised they’d been kissing or perhaps hugging.  
“ I think the best place to do this is the spare bedroom. Sherlock... have you had an internal examination before?”  
Sherlock’s rigid physical reluctance answered for him.  
“Do you have to …do …that?” Lars heard fear.Verging on panic.  
“ So that I can know what contraceptive method would suit you best I’ll need to find out the shape of your womb because that can vary and every implant is slightly different …and its a good idea to check the general health of your reproductive system and do a cervical smear. Then you can dress and have a chat about fitting a uterine contraceptive implant providing you aren’t pregnant. Actually fitting the implant would have to be done at the clinic, we use a anaesthetic spray for that so its totally painless.  
If you are already pregnant there are options and we can talk those through.“ Lars spoke with a kind, practical reassurance, a fear response wasn’t uncommon in shy Omega and many had been through humiliating examinations in the past. “Alan can come in with you if that helps? He can sit by your head, hold your hand.”  
Sherlock looked frozen but it was only when he started to shake , crying hopelessly in an uncontrolled panic attack and the Alpha moved in fast to block him protectively , arms round the boy hiding him against his chest that Lars realised he was dealing with a much bigger problem than mere embarrassment. Sherlock was traumatised.

Lars looked up as the Alpha appeared at the doorway to the kitchen. He’d left them alone hoping the man could calm the Omega down but from the tension of the man’s jaw that wasn’t happening.  
”It won't happen tonight. Sorry for bothering you. I’m going to take him home.”  
“And then what? …Do you want to tell me what just happened?” The last thing Lars wanted was for the Alpha to take the boy away without any contraceptive fitted and carry on having unprotected sex with him. "Sherlock’s had a bad experience with this examination?”

The Alpha only wanted to take the boy and go. His protective instinct had kicked in full force. He looked over his shoulder back towards the Omega who was sat hunched and miserable on the couch. “Worse than just bad. He thought he could do this , he can’t…he wants to go so we’re going.”

Lars followed behind the Alpha as he picked up the boy’s coat and took it to him.  
“Sherlock? I'm sorry I upset you…” Lars crouched down trying to see the Elite Omega’s face as he spoke to him, the boy was shaking constantly. The Alpha gave a low warning growl, Lars knew it was a very real threat. “ I’m sorry someone hurt you . I know you’re scared right now. I don’t want fear to keep you from having safe , protected sex . I’m working every night this week and next. I promise if you come in we can sit and talk through every question you need answered. We don’t have to do an examination until you feel safe and ready.…if we do it at the clinic pre-arranged I can prescribe something to help you relax before hand. Everything would stop at any time Sherlock as soon as you said stop. You’d be in control. You have my word.”  
Now he could see the Omega’s face and his agitated terrified eyes he could see the boy was desperate to get away from him ….he looked ready to bolt at any second.  
Carefully Lars stood up and stepped back allowing the other Omega some space.

Sherlock shot up off the couch in one move and was over by the Alpha before he could be stopped…not that Lars would have tried.  
Lars had never felt as useless as he did now. Searching in his mind for the one thing he could say that either the Alpha or the Elite Omega would listen to , that could make a difference and bring them back to get the examination and help the boy needed.  
It all felt too late , the Alpha opened the door and the boy ducked past him onto the dark landing with clear relief.  
“ Thanks anyway” The Alpha blocked the front door , preventing Lars from stepping out and trying again. Lars considered himself warned off from trying to get any closer to the other Omega. The man paused as though he wanted to say something before he turned away.

Lars watched from his window as the pair emerged downstairs. He saw the Alpha hugging the boy to him as they walked to the old Land Rover parked kerbside. He felt frustrated …Sherlock needed help if what Lars saw in the boy’s face reflected the fear inside his mind.  
All he could do was hope the Omega came to the clinic and tried again…


	37. Run Me Like A River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riddick is trying to do the responsible thing sexually....Sherlock isn't...........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words Sherlock yells in Danish... For dig!....mean ... Fuck you!  
> Sherlock's view of sex may seen very weird but I swear its accurate.... for Sherlock its proof Alan is his and loves him ....its not less proof of that even when it hurts... in Sherlock's mind its almost the most valid proof Alan can give him and when Riddick holds back sexually , trying to do the right thing ...Sherlock initiates and tries to get Alan to love him back even if he has to semi trick him into it....he sees what happens then as rejection....pure and simple, in his mind it means Alan doesn't love him, doesn't want him ....
> 
> Track is Run Me Like A River by Bishop Briggs  
> 

Alan took his first piss of the day and found his stupid bloody mind running through yet another way he could finally spit out what he needed to say to Sherlock…. after two days he was beginning to believe there was no good way to say it and his brain seemed to agree as all the ideas he was coming up with now were bordering on insane.  
_Sherlock…love…. How’d you feel about letting some Doctor you’ve met twice stick his hand up your arse, just like that sadistic fucker Hoi did; so he can push something through your cervix into your womb?_  
Shit scared? _Oh…. you remember how much that hurts?…. Thought you might…._  
This time ‘it’ll be different’ though and the good news is that then I finally get to fuck you through a heat…isn’t Omega life great… Huh? Huh? _GOD NO.  
Sod starting the day. Back to bed._

_____ _

“Alan? I made toast and tea.”  
Yup that explained the acrid burning smell. “Morning love.” Jesus the boy looked like he’d barely slept.There were shadows under his eyes.  
“It’s a bit burnt but I scraped it with a knife and most of it is still ok…I think” Dubious.” I can try again if you want?”  
Alan wasn’t sure why he found Sherlock’s kitchen disasters so loveable, he just did. He took a huge bite of blackened bread and chewed manfully, washing it down with a gulp of tea.  
“It’s ok?”  
Its bloody awful love….” Not bad lad. Looks worse than it tastes. Cup of tea’s perfect.”  
Sherlock’s sad little smile broke Alan’s heart. Riddick knew Sherlock was fretting over what he should do and blaming himself for being unable to do it. The stressed look on the Omega’s face was a constant worry. Alan put the toast down. “Come on you …back into bed…lets have a lazy morning.”

Cuddling the Omega tight , with the boy’s slanted cheek bone pressed at the base of Alan’s neck, made the idea of talking easier but the right words were still out of reach. Alan had the beginning word and nothing else running on a constant loop ….Sherlock ….Sherlock…Sherlock….  
“ Alan…?” Sherlock’s quietly depressed voice breaking into his thinking came as a shock.  
Riddick pressed a soft kiss into the boy’s short dark hair. “ You ok?”  
Sherlock’s despairing, tearful sob said it all.  
Alan moved fast, rolling over so he could have the boy’s fragile body held close in both arms. Against his skin he could feel the warm wetness of tear filled lashes and hear the lad’s every shuddering gasp. “Its alright love, I’ve got you. I’m here. Let it all out“

All cried out Sherlock was weak and passive. Alan stroked broad finger tips over the raised scarred skin of the Omega’s bond bite until the boy gave into the sedating rhythmic pressure and closed his eyes. Riddick kept the soothing, steadily repetitive touch going until the exhausted Omega slumped gracelessly. Alan couldn’t see his face to be certain but it felt like the boy was sleeping.

Sherlock didn’t stir for over an hour. Alan watched as he lifted his head for a second and stared at him with blurred, confused eyes before laying back down, too dizzy to move yet.  
Alan’s warm, broad hand stroked Sherlock’s back gently, the bones of the lad’s back were still too easily felt. Over the years Riddick had seen Magnussen use Sherlock’s body obsessively but he couldn’t remember ever seeing the Alpha show the Omega any after care or affection.

Nothing thrives without that. Everyone needs love.

Billy’d bought home a elderly collie dog once; that he’d found tied to the swings in the park early one morning on his way to college. The thing had been riddled with fleas , its fur balding and scabby in parts and matted in others. One look at it and the posh git of an Alpha Vet Alan had agreed to pay for, had told Billy nothing could be done for it but that hadn’t stopped Billy trying. He’d spent hours coaxing it out from underneath the table , cleaning up its mess and teasing the tangles from its dull coat.  
Alan had been afraid it’d bite his Omega , its traumatised, warning growls were its only response it knew to make to all the devoted love and care Billy had given it…until one day the snarling just stopped and it had looked at Billy as he combed it as if to say….ok you win, I’ve no fight left in me, do what you want to me.

Sometimes Alan still saw that same defeated, enforced acceptance in Sherlock that he’d seen on the Omega’s face whenever Magnussen had touched him. He’d seen it at Lars flat just before the boy broke down.  
He’d only ever seen it once since he’d taken Sherlock away and known that he'd been the man who caused it …that time in the alley , after he’d clumsily tried to push the Omega past his comfort zone only to have Sherlock turn on him and lose his temper in the street.

Trying to get the lad talking what they should do about contraception felt very much like a mistake already but there was no other bloody way. Lars was right about that.  
They couldn’t risk Sherlock getting pregnant again with his history and Alan had no idea what they could do if the Omega already was carrying his child even though he suspected it was a lot less likely than Lars thought. Even the vague nightmarish idea of some future Sherlock miscarrying here in a cabin miles from the nearest hospital was bloody terrifying…  
Alan had knots in his gut just from looking at the determined look of fearful avoidance on Sherlock’s face. The boy was miserable and pretending he wasn’t was taking its toll on both of them.  
Alan just wished he was better with words , less clumsy and useless. Less of an ignorant Alpha likely to fuck the whole thing up….  
Maybe later…..

The soup smelled good , Alan turned the heat down under it and stole a glance at Sherlock. The boy had set the bowls and spoons out before retreating to the couch, hunched up into a compact , bony shape on the couch, knees to his chest, arms hugging them round and his face on top of his folded arms.  
The lack of talking throughout the meal had Alan feeling tensely protective .…Sherlock moved his spoon about in his bowl but ate nothing….he barely even looked up.  
There was a stiff unhappy silence as they washed up and put away pan and dishes, that Alan wanted to break but wasn’t sure how…..  
Didn’t bode well for now being the right time…. 

Alan laid the fire early and lit it , aware as he did the job that Sherlock was watching him. In truth he’d only lit the fire this early to have something calming to do.  
Riddick settled back on the couch and watched the weak flickering flames quietly, legs stretched out so his feet could rest on the stone hearth beneath the wood burner.  
Maybe now was the time to say it…..

He was so aware of Sherlock… sat immobile and isolated, with a head full of his own thoughts , at the far end of the couch… that he was shocked when suddenly the Omega moved , standing up gracefully and straddling Alan’s thighs with his knees on the seat cushions either side of Alan and his arms wrapping round Riddick’s neck.  
The kiss Sherlock gave him was breathtaking, sweetly needy and passionate. Alan’s arms came up round the boy automatically , hands grasping either side of the lad’s slim waist.  
“Kiss me .” Sherlock’s gorgeous, otherworldly eyes were fixed on Riddick’s.  
Alan caught hold and kissed back fiercely until Sherlock moaned into his mouth and Alan thought he could lose his mind, the throb of his cock at that sound went all the way through his body.

The second kiss blurred seamlessly into the third and fourth and on until Alan couldn’t think , Sherlock’s richly curved lips parting against Alan’s with a hungry , urgency that had the Alpha’s cock hard in minutes.  
Sherlock’s body shifted on top of his as the Omega chased his own pleasure, kissing hard with his sweet tasting tongue in Alan’s mouth, pushing his slim body down onto Riddick’s and the Alpha felt his hips come up to grind back. The fluid roll and thrust of Sherlock’s slender hips sent his cock against the straining, thick bulge of Alan’s own cock through his clothes and had Riddick’s hands catching hard either side of the Omega’s hips pulling them closer together.

When Sherlock pushed a hand down inside Alan’s pyjama bottoms and ran his palm along Riddick’s heavy shaft the Alpha growled, so aroused he thrust into the touch the second he felt it. Sherlock’s hand pushed against that hard thrust and for minutes Alan fucked into the boy’s hand. He knew he was growling , desperate for this as Sherlock leant up over him and reached down between his own legs , watching as he freed Alan’s cock from his clothes and cupped his fingers and thumb round it as he worked his hand along its length, pulling at the skin and hard swollen fullness of the Alpha’s shaft and pushing that grip all the way down until his fingers rubbed at the knotted base. Alan’s deep, rumbling response was immediate.

Alan’s hands were inside Sherlock’s pyjama bottoms on the soft bare skin of the boy’s arse, toned muscles moved under his hands every time Sherlock twisted his hips forward and slid them back until Riddick slid his fingers into the very beginning of the cleft between the Omega’s buttocks and fought down the urge to reach lower and follow the boy’s slim spinal bones down to the tightly puckered hole he knew was there. Instead Alan sucked hard at Sherlock’s neck just under the boy’s jawline.

There was a breathless pause as Sherlock panted hotly against Riddick’s ear before he tongued it and sent shivers up Alan’s spine that fired neurons in his brain. He was aware of Sherlock moving, panting and doing something….God knows what…. before the Omega kissed him with a melting softness; but he couldn’t focus on anything other than the feel and overwhelmingly sweet taste of Sherlock’s tongue on his.  
Sherlock pushed into Alan’s kiss with just the right amount of Omega submission and Riddick’s instinctive need to claim had him mouthing at the boy’s neck in seconds seeking the hard little bond gland under the Omega’s pale , beautiful skin. Sherlock arched into the touch and rocked, beautifully responsive.  
Sherlock’s hand left Alan’s cock and Riddick’s groan was more of a growl. “Let me… please love… let me” Alan didn’t even know what he was begging Sherlock for, only that he needed the boy’s hand back right now. They hadn't fucked in two days and Alan was desperate to come.

“Breathe.” The slim hand that closed back round Alan’s cock was slick with lube and Alan closed his eyes and fought down the urge to come hard just from the oiled, slippery touch. The feel of that wet long fingered grip round his shaft had Riddick groaning open mouthed. “Don’t come yet…Alan don’t….” Sherlock’s voice was panting in Alan’s ear , making the Alpha buck his hips up and Sherlock squeezed his hand hard over the Alpha’s swollen knot to control him.

There was a second in which Alan shut his eyes and struggled to hold back the need to empty his balls and that second of blindness was all it took….Sherlock’s hand moved its grasp , his body twisted its angle and Alan heard the boy give a sharp gasp of pain as he pushed himself down onto Alan’s lubed cock.  
Alan froze…. Sherlock moaned and moved, forcing his body down again and Alan panicked for the first time in years…. “Stop….no … stop… we can’t…” He grabbed hard at the boy’s thighs underneath, close to his arse and stopped him moving. Under his palms he could feel the lube smeared over the Omega’s skin…. Sherlock struggled to push down ….“Bloody Hell …SHERLOCK NO!”

There was a split second of shocked stillness before it all went to Hell…. Sherlock’s hands shoved angrily against Alan’s chest and then there was the wet abrupt suction as Sherlock tore his body from Riddick’s with a cry of pain. Alan made a grab at him to stop him leaving and Sherlock went berserk, hitting blindly at Riddick’s face and shouting in Danish…fighting until Alan let him go.  
Sherlock ran haphazardly for the bedroom , naked except for the t-shirt he ‘d slept in and crashed the huge metal door shut with both hands. The reverberating clanging noise was deafening.  
From inside the room Riddick could hear the sound of Sherlock hurling things against the door and screaming ….” YOU LIAR….. FUCK DIG….LIAR. LIAR .LIAR”


	38. Misunderstood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being two different sides of a door makes understanding each other impossible....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gob smacked....LOL...gob is slang for mouth , gob smacked has two meanings ....to be shocked and to be literally hit in the mouth. Both apply here....
> 
> This update is angsty...they talk finally in the next update with a little help....
> 
> Blue the track is Stone by Alessia Cara

Sherlock crouched on the floor, the bones of his thin back pressed to the wall and tried to stop the flood of panic that was pulling him under. The humiliation of being told to stop hurt so much.  
The Omega caught hold of the back of his neck, fingers cramping hard as he rocked , trying to put the same soothing pressure on his bond bite that Alan would do. He couldn’t stop the flood of tears, couldn’t breathe past the sobbing. He had no control, he was lost and terrified.  
All he could think about was Riddick’s stunned face when the Alpha had tried to catch hold of him and Sherlock had fought back against his hands and twisted away, striking out blindly, rejected and hurting, desperate to break free and run…hiding so Alan couldn’t see him fall apart.  
He’d ruined everything…..he hated himself. Alan had to be SO angry. Maybe angry enough to hit him….

Alan was gob-smacked for want of a better word….literally. One or two of Sherlock’s uncoordinated, flailing blows had hit home over Alan’s lip and it felt thick and swollen.  
Riddick knew he’d done wrong when he caught at Sherlock and grappled with the Omega as the boy tried to run. He hadn’t meant to hurt him…. all he’d meant to do was to keep the lad close, afraid he could harm himself.  
He’d scared him. Like an idiot , he’d scared the boy. He forgot sometimes how much stronger and bigger he was.

For the first time Alan missed Magnussen’s bloody cameras. At least he’d know what the Omega was doing then….he was worried for Sherlock’s safety, the boy was alone where the Alpha couldn’t see him and Riddick knew what the Omega was capable of when he blamed himself and turned that pain inwards.The slashing wounds through skin and flesh, the determination to die, the lack of fear… what if Sherlock did something stupid.  
There were no sounds from inside the room for a while now. The door was closed, slammed shut so hard to keep Riddick out that it had spilt the wooden frame.  
Sherlock had thrown everything and anything at the door, yelling abuse as coat hangers, books and God knows what else banged and clattered off the metal.  
A liar? A bloody liar? How was he that?

 

The low, raw sound of sobbing was coming from behind the bed….“Sherlock? I’m not coming in… I just want to talk to you. Ok?” Alan put his shoulder to the door and heaved. The door hit a cupboard that had been dragged over and Alan realised the door was barricaded to keep him out..

The lad thought he’d hit him? “I’ve never hit an Omega in my life…I’m not about to start now.” Alan was angry Sherlock would even think that.  
Sherlock’s nervous move further back was audible and he didn’t deny it was what he’d thought. Alan took a deep breath, staying still in the open doorway where he was less of a threat. “Sherlock?” What little Alan could see of the bedroom looked like a war zone. Bedding and pillows all over the floor, clothes everywhere, the old mattress half off the bed. Paperback books scattered over the floor, spines torn and pages splayed out.  
Alan didn’t own much but even so the lad had no right doing that. “Pick up everything and put it back where you got it from. “  
There was no answer but Alan hadn’t expected one.

Two hours later Sherlock still hadn’t come out and Alan reached up on top of the only shelf and took down the small wooden box he kept his photo’s in. He rarely looked through the photos…they made him feel sad every time he did. Still he found himself opening the box, feeling lonely and unloved and needing to see Billy’s face again.  
The top photo was a strip from a photo booth , Alan smiled sadly when he saw it, Billy on his lap and himself in his Army uniform with his regimental army beret on Billy’s head instead of his own.  
Alan sat at the table and looked at every photo.  
Billy at school, with that bloody safety pin through his ear and the sides of his head shaved.  
Alan crashed out on the bed on Christmas Eve decorated in bloody tinsel as he slept by Billy, who’d taken the photo when Alan was sleeping...he’d been shattered after hitch hiking all the way home on leave to surprise his Omega.  
Billy with Skully the dog, holding the dog’s paw up and making it wave at Alan behind the camera.  
Daft photos all of them!  
At the bottom of the pile …Billy with all his hair gone, IV line in , skin and bone from chemo , with a cup of ice chips next to the bed. Dying.  
Riddick closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.  
At the end Billy’s breathing had slowed right down, every breath laboured. The hospice staff had told Alan that Billy wouldn’t last the night but he had and he’d died with the dawn chorus filling the trees outside his window and Alan’s hand holding his as though he could keep him there........

Alan was angry. Very angry. Sherlock knew it from the short terse way Riddick spoke to him.  
He shouldn’t have thrown all Alan’s things…he knew that even before Riddick told him to pick everything up. One of the books was torn and Sherlock was instantly afraid when he saw it was ripped.  
Sherlock hung all the clothes back up and picked up everything he'd thrown but he didn’t know how to make a bed, he’d never had to do it before…it didn’t look right so he did it again and again and it still looked wrong.It wasn’t good enough. Alan would be angry when he saw it.

He left moving the chest of drawers till last…as soon as it was back in place Sherlock shot into the bed and hid under the duvet.  
Hours later and Alan hadn’t tried speaking to him again or opening the door, Sherlock was listening and he knew the Alpha hadn’t been into the bedroom once. It was late and dark and Alan’s side of the shared bed was cold and empty.  
Sherlock lay awake and worried. Alan hadn’t wanted him , Sherlock had tried so hard to do it right and be sexy so Alan would want to fuck him but he’d got it all wrong. Of course he did he was useless as a fuck.  
Riddick was an Alpha... of course he didn’t want Sherlock acting like a whore.... an Omega was meant to do what the Alpha wanted.  
Of course Alan wanted Sherlock underneath him not ever on top. Be submissive. Sherlock knew that.

Lots of Omega would be happy to do anything Alan wanted and they’d get it right, they weren’t the freak Omega Sherlock was. Omega who could cook without burning it almost every time. .. who could get a contraceptive fitted without having a breakdown…who’d share their heats.  
Alan wouldn’t have to keep dealing with everything they got wrong in bed and out of it like he did with Sherlock. It was only Sherlock who was useless. Sherlock who was crazy.  
Maybe Alan would tell him to go back to Mycroft tomorrow now he didn't want him....

Alan woke up feeling cold and stiff necked, from where he’d fallen asleep with his head on the table top next to the box of photos.  
It was dark , late and the fire was low. The bedroom door was still shut firmly.  
So much for talking…Sherlock didn’t want to hear anything Alan had to say and why would he.  
Alan couldn’t face trying to bargain his way into the room and the bed. Not if the Omega didn’t want him there.  
He grabbed the heavy wool blanket from the couch and lay down on the floor in front of the fire.  
He didn’t sleep. What if Sherlock asked to leave him tomorrow, now he'd let the Omega down ..?


	39. Disorder and Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riddick wakes up to find Sherlock gone.  
> Lars finds himself in danger....  
> Sherlock almost sleeps through it all....until he doesn't
> 
> Blue...track is Beautiful War by Kings Of Leon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alan behaves badly but to be fair to him ...he is out of his mind with worry at the time...

Alan woke up abruptly, a sudden uneasy sense of something being very wrong hitting him almost instantly. He never meant to sleep.  
Christ …Sherlock could have done something to hurt himself!  
Alan was up and on his feet fast, to see the bedroom door was still shut. “Sherlock?” Alan opened the door quietly and took a step into the dark quiet bedroom .  
The bed was empty…the bathroom was empty, the small wooden cabin was empty. When Alan stood outside to yell the boy's name the swirling snow was already covering up the tell tale footsteps leading away from the cabin towards the track and the road beyond that…  
Sherlock was gone! Bloody gone!  
The Alpha felt the pain of loss crush his chest so hard he couldn’t think straight.

It was freezing cold , pitch dark and the Omega was on his own and vulnerable without protection where any sicko could get at him. Christ Almighty!

Riddick tore back into the cabin and snatched his gun up off the floor, pushing his socked feet into boots and lacing them up carelessly at speed. He grabbed his coat, shoving his hand deep into his pocket for his car keys. The burner mobile phone that had been in his snow jacket pocket was missing and Alan looked about for it fast, puzzled until he saw it on the table.  
It was on when he picked it up and scrolling down as fast as he could, Riddick saw it had been used to make a call.He didn’t know the number for a few minutes, and slapped his head with his palm yelling “Bloody think idiot!” in sheer and frustration…then he knew it!  
Alan was out the door at a run and into the Land Rover, driving as fast down the winding track to the road as was safe.  
There were clear signs a car had waited for Sherlock on the main road further along...so he was right...if he was fast the lad may still be where Alan suspected he was! Riddick floored the accelerator as soon as he hit the gritted road.

The shabby old porta-cabin that housed the free Omega health clinic was locked up and empty. Alan hammered on the door and looked in through every barred window … the car park was empty, nobody was there.  
That left one place Sherlock could be…. 

The snow was falling heavily. It was dark and bitterly, bone numbingly cold. Alan parked around the corner so nobody would see him coming and stood in the freezing cold watching the windows to be sure the person he had come looking for was home.  
He was.

The block had an entry phone but one buzz to the flat downstairs claiming a lost key got him inside and Alan was up the stairs three at a time. He was fit to kill anyone who got in his way.  
Riddick slowed... quiet and deadly as he neared the front door of the flat.  
He could hear music. The hard thump Alan gave the door was loud enough that the music stopped instantly.  
Standing in clear sight of the view hole in the plain wooden door he forced himself to look calm... staying far enough back to reduce the threat he posed so the Omega would be fooled and open the door.  
He kept his clenched , murderous fists out of sight.

There was someone behind the door...not Sherlock... Alan would have known the lad by scent.

“Its Alan… is the boy here?”  
“ Yes….he's here… I’ll open the door.” Lars sounded nervous.  
He was right to be...Alan nodded, feigning a calm he didn't feel, angry determination making him cold and calculated.

Riddick was ready. The second the door opened the bare minimum on its security chain he kicked it in violently, sending Lars staggering back, with a shout. Before the Omega could recover Alan forced his way inside, moving fast. Lars didn’t stand a chance against Riddick.  
Alan drove the Omega back from the door, grabbing him hard by both shoulders and slammed him up against the wall so hard he heard the thump of Lars skull meeting plaster.  
Riddick span Lars round and crushed the Omega into the same wall for a second time face first, with one wrist forced so high up behind his back one move would see it broken. The Omega gave a shout of pain.  
“Shut your mouth or I’ll break your arm. “ Alan snarled it against the Doctor’s ear. “Where’s Sherlock? Where the fuck is he?”  
Lars voice was breathless with agony. “Let go! I haven’t hurt him. He’s inside. Let go of me. Alan let go!”

"Fuck you!" Alan didn’t let go, Lars exclaimed in pain as the Alpha hauled him physically down the hallway and into his light modern sitting room with its grey and orange couch cushions.  
“Argh please... my arm…let go!” Lars couldn’t feel his fingers through the bone crushing pain of the Alpha’s grasp round his wrist bones. The Alpha was unbelievably strong, his hard grasp agonizing.

“Which room! Where is he? Where's Sherlock!” Alan snarled angrily.  
“Stop! “Lars begged gasping, the pain making him light headed. “You’re breaking my wrist! Just... stop… calm down. He can’t hear you, he’s sleeping…”  
“WHERE?” Alan literally shook him off his feet. He didn’t even wait for the Omega’s reply, forcing Lars ahead of him down the corridor and throwing open each door so hard it banged off the wall.

The last door was already open, the red and silver lava lamp beside the bed on. As soon as the Alpha saw Sherlock asleep on one side of the double bed under an innocuous Christmas reindeer print duvet he gave a deep , dragging inhalation of pure relief.  
Lars was shoved brusquely aside and forgotten as the Alpha went for the bed…for a second Lars was afraid for the unconscious Omega…but Sherlock had said to let Alan in , he had been adamant that the Alpha wouldn’t ever hurt him in anger.  
Lars wished he could say the same of the man … he rubbed tenderly around his aching wrist. He couldn’t feel two of his fingers and his whole arm ached. Along the back of his head was a tender lump from where Alan had slammed him into the wall.

Riddick was crouched down next to the bed, the brutally strong hands that had almost broken Lars wrist were incredibly gentle as he brushed fingers over the boy’s thin arm. When Sherlock didn't move Lars could see the Alpha’s chest heaving with protective emotion . “He’s drugged? What the Hell have you given him?”  
“A sedative that’s all , he agreed to it…. Alan…he knew you’d come here. He said to let you in , that you wouldnt hurt him ..or me … You have to calm down. He’s safe.”  
“Safe? What the Hell would you know about keeping him safe! You have no idea the danger he is in! No bloody idea at all! Christ!” The Alpha had lent forward over the boy attentively, obsessively focused.  
Any other Alpha would have been running hands over the unconscious Omega's body... scenting him, checking he was truly ok , perhaps nosing demandingly into the glands at the side of the boy’s pale neck or exposing his skin in the effort to cover him possessively in their Alpha scent.  
Riddick seemed oddly hesitant for someone who had literally forced his way inside Lars home..

Lars watched the Elite Omega move vaguely towards the Alpha’s familiar scent in his sleep, whimpering, he ended up close to Alan's chest… it was an Omega instinct, to seek comfort. The Alpha almost seemed afraid to touch him back. The aggressive protective streak ebbing away now he’d scented the Omega. “Safe! I woke up he was bloody gone…anything could have happened to him.” The man sounded devastated.

Lars remembered what Sherlock had said…’ If he’s upset, his right hand always shakes.. it sounds stupid but make him tea. Everything is better with tea, he says it’s a Yorkshire thing, that’s where he comes from’...  
Lars saw the distinct tremor in the Alpha's hand as it stroked Sherlock's finger tips.  
” Its best he sleeps the sedative off…he won’t wake before he is ready. We had to give him a huge dose, ” Lars said...."Would you like a cup of tea? ”  
He wasn't surprised when the Alpha said yes after a few minutes silence. Sherlock knew the Alpha well.

In the kitchen as the kettle boiled Lars held an ice pack to the back of his head and got his first good look at Alan. The man looked frozen, his clear blue eyes glacially bright and stressed, jaw tight with tension, his short dark hair sticking messily up as though he’d just got out of bed. Agitated. Worried. Lars could see he'd had a real shock.

Lars hoped the tea would work and calm the man down. When he got a carton of real milk out of the fridge Lars saw Alan stare sharply , suddenly alert as though it meant Lars whole persona could be a lie. “Thought you were vegan…rope milk or something?”  
Lars remembered the Alpha’s disgusted face when he’d tasted hemp milk last time…” Hemp milk. I'm vegan seven years.... Sherlock knew you’d come to find him here. It was his idea to get you some real milk.”  
“Course it was. “ Riddick said sadly

Alan looked strangely ashamed as he drank his tea. “Did he tell you what happened?”  
“A little …he said you’d argued but it was all his fault?”  
Alan shook his head. “ It wasn’t .”  
“You don’t think so?” Lars kept his voice low. Most of the Alpha he met would have readily blamed it on Omega mood swings.  
“How could it be his fault? Soft lad.” Alan rejected the idea. “It’s my bloody fault.”  
Lars was careful how he phrased what he said next…. ”Sherlock said he hit you?” He could see the Alpha’s lip was swollen.  
Alan shook his head dismissively. “I’m a big bloke I can take a little smack in the mouth from an Omega. He’d never have done it if I hadn’t pushed him into seeing you about damn contraception…that upset him…he’s not been right since. I said the wrong thing like a idiot...”

“The implant? Why would talking about that upset him that much?” Lars kept his voice neutral, keeping the Alpha focused on talking, though he suspected he knew the reason behind Sherlock's extreme fear.  
“That bloody thing. I never should have bought him for that…after everything he's been through. I should have told him the truth.” Alan looked back towards the bedroom warily as thought the boy could hear him.

Lars watched the Alpha’s face closely as he spoke , wanting to see the man’s undisguised reaction. “He phoned me , said he needed a lift to the clinic...that he'd changed his mind and wanted the contraceptive implant fitted. ”  
The Alpha’s look of concerned distress couldn’t have been more genuine. He wasn’t thinking of himself and the sexual advantages of access to the Elite Omega in heat at all. “ All by himself? Jesus! I’d never have left him go through that on his own…he was scared stiff. I knew that.”  
Lars believed him….

Alan looked absurdly uncomfortable on the narrow , ultra modern Ikea couch but he claimed he was fine.  
Because of his sheer muscular power and size …the single bed sized travel blanket Lar's had given the Alpha barely covered him. “Sorry…Sherlock has the spare bedding.”  
“It’s fine…slept in far worse places with a lot less , “ was all Alan said…then gruffly ” About manhandling you like that... I was out of order. I hurt you. I’m sorry.”  
Lars was surprised to get an apology at all. It wasn't typical Alpha male behavior. “You were worried...you care about Sherlock. I don’t think he has had many people in his life who really cared has he?”  
Alan shook his head once sharply as though the question irritated him. “He's had me. I love him. Have for years. ”  


Lars had never been so pleased to shut his bedroom door. He sat on the end of the bed and watched both his hands shake as he held them out. His wrist was badly swollen.  
The explosive power and speed had been terrifying. Sherlock may see another, gentler side, to the Alpha but the man Lars had been attacked by in his own home was brutal and clinically, intimidatingly aggressive. Trained to hurt and maim.  
Lars had absolutely no doubt if he’d hurt Sherlock in any way Alan would have killed him without hesitation.

When Lars woke up the next morning he was instinctively aware that there were a couple of virtual strangers in his flat.  
The air smelled like an expensive vanilla candle had been left burning …that had to be the Elite Omega scent Lars had read so much about but never experienced.  
Underneath the subtle vanilla perfumed scent, which Lars had to admit was pleasant, there was another aroma, strongly masculine and crisp…it was just as pleasant in its own uniquely Alpha way.

The ulnar tendon in Lars wrist was still painfully swollen and made brushing his teeth difficult but all his fingers were moving fine so he tried not to worry. Like most Omega he didn’t need a daily shave or even a weekly one.

Lars looked in at Sherlock as he walked past, the Elite Omega was still sleeping, he looked underweight, highly strung and fragile. Lars wondered how the traumatised boy he’d had to sedate more heavily than had ever been necessary before at the clinic ; just to do a basic reproductive exam , was managing to cope and function in the newly sexual relationship that clearly existed between himself and Alan. He couldnt imagine it would be problem free ..

“Sherlock’s still sleeping. I checked in on him. He didn’t wake at all last night.”  
“I know.” There was an unhappy edge under the Alpha’s voice that made Lars glance at him. From the look of the man he hadn’t even slept. He gave Lars a nod by way of a good morning as he joined him in the kitchen.

Lars reached for the kettle and turned around to get the mugs to find Alan had already placed one on the counter top. It felt odd to be doing something so domestic with a man he hadn’t spent a heat with and who wasn’t a friend. Awkward. “There’s muesli in that cupboard there if you eat cereal, or soya yoghurt and there’s rye bread?”  
“It’s fine” …. Alan didn’t move to get any cereal. There was something wrong …the man seemed ill at ease. “I was thinking ...maybe I should go.“ Riddick stared out the window as he spoke.  
Lars hadn’t expected that; he was completely shocked! “Go where? What about Sherlock?”  
“ I'm not 100% sure he'll want me here. I pushed my way in like I have rights but he wouldn't even talk to me before he left. Maybe running off was his way of leaving me... .” Alan’s jaw was tight. He looked broken hearted but determined as he shook his head. Lars could see how raw and over emotional the Alpha was underneath his facade as Riddick stopped talking and swallowed hard.

Lars had no idea what kind of mental confusion was going on in the Alpha’s head but he was almost certain that the Elite Omega hadn’t meant for this to happen. Whatever had been said in the argument Sherlock had hinted at , must have been bad …the Alpha clearly believed Sherlock didn’t want to be with him . “Won’t you wait and talk to him first? He'll be awake soon. He was very upset last night Alan. Whatever he said… I know he thought you'd be here when he wakes up. He'll want to talk to you surely?”  
“I don’t think he will…” Alan said dully.

Lars waited until Alan had gone to wash and shave . As soon as the bathroom door closed Lars went into the bedroom and shook Sherlock’s arm gently. The Elite Omega started awake violently, flinching back into a protective block of his face and head. That instinctive uncontrollable fear answered every suspicion Lars had concerning how badly Sherlock had been treated before Alan took him away. “ I'm sorry Sherlock. I didn’t mean to scare you.”  
Sherlock blinked at him , bewildered and Lars saw him staring hard at him , thinking before he spoke. “Somethings wrong? What is it? Where's Alan?”

“How bad was the argument between you and Alan, Sherlock?”  
“I told you..bad, I hit him...in the face... and I yelled at him…threw things.” Sherlock was pink with shame, mortified.  
Lars tried to be gentle as he explained but there wasn’t much time. “Try to think. Alpha can be very literal when it comes to emotions like love. Was anything said about ending things between you? Anything that would make Alan think that's why you left? That you were breaking up?”  
Sherlock knew now, Lars could see the pain of it on his face. “But…but… he loves me. He said so. He wouldnt just stop...” The Omega looked horrified, as though his world had just ended. “ Doesn’t he want me anymore? Did he say that! .. Oh God!”

Lars realised the boy had no idea. “No Sherlock… its the other way round, he thinks you don’t want him.” From the speechless, appalled shock on Sherlock’s face Lars gathered that was not the case at all....


	40. Trust ............

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riddick and Sherlock manage to say what they feel ...FINALLY ....but what isn't said could prove to be a problem later....
> 
>  
> 
> Blue....track is Sweet Hallelujah by Tom Grennan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to give everyone reading a mental hug as a thank you for getting this section of the story past 7000 hits...I can't believe anything I wrote has been clicked on so many times...THANK YOU!

Alan envied Lars his power shower. It had multi directional jets and a pulse setting…. unlike Alan’s own basic model back at the cabin , almost as good as the bloody fantastic showers Magnussen had installed in all the houses Alan had worked in. It was a pleasure using it.  
Shame the same couldn’t be said for Lars shower gel…bright luminous pink and smelt like candy…

Getting back into yesterday’s clothes ruined the clean fresh feeling somewhat but the army taught you to put up with things that can’t be changed without moaning. Most of Alan’s childhood had been a salutary lesson in learning to do without…without breakfast, sheets on his mattress, clean clothes, money for school dinner, a winter jacket…any bloody affection.  
He’d always felt he was hard to love...man of few words, looked like a scary bastard in his own opinion…. until Billy had shown him who he really was underneath. It had been impossible not to love Billy with his huge heart, mad sense of humour and his cheeky grin.

Having a second chance at happiness …he’d never expected that…or that Sherlock would look twice at someone like him. Someone as gorgeous and unique inside and out as Sherlock should always have been out of Alan’s league…he was punching well above his weight being with a beauty like Sherlock and he knew it. That’s even before he thought about the insane fact that the lad was an Elite Omega and a walking sexual fantasy for a good 90% of Alpha males.  
Like most Common Alpha Alan had no idea exactly how the lad differed when he was in heat only that he could take a double knot and smelt like Heaven in human form. He’d heard the crude talk claiming all Elite Omega were nymphomaniacs all his life…to be honest he couldn’t imagine Sherlock being like that…the lad was shy and submissive in bed.

Riddick liked that about him…overtly sexually confident Omega had never been his thing…Sherlock was gentle and sweet; fragile. Loving. That’s why when Sherlock had hit out at him Alan had known straight away how much he’d hurt the lad’s feelings. He just couldn’t stand watching Sherlock force himself past the point of pain. Yes he should have said that in a better way, he knew that now it was probably too late…  
Emotions were getting the better of Alan today…just the thought of losing Sherlock had him feeling weak. If Sherlock rejected him and told him to go it would be the second worse moment of his life and all his own fault for being a clumsy idiot with emotional stuff.  
Maybe a walk would clear his head. Maybe he should just risk it all and tell the lad the pathetic truth….

Alan was at a loss…his boots were gone from the laminate floor next to the couch and so were his car keys. Feeling stupid because he knew they weren’t there but had to look anyway, he sat down and felt down the sides of the couch cushion to look for his lost keys first….  
“They aren’t there…I’ve hidden your boots and I’ve got your wallet and keys…” Sherlock was in the doorway, leaning weakly against the door frame. “Look all you want, you won’t find them. “  
The lad looked tired even though he’d slept solidly all night long. There were darkly stressed shadows under the Omega’s eyes and he looked unnaturally pale like he’d lost blood.  
Nevertheless Sherlock met Alan’s concerned look with a challenging, otherworldly stare. Riddick felt his heart flip, same as always.

“Do you want to tell me why you’ve hidden my things?” Alan asked carefully.  
“Yes,” Sherlock moved slowly from the doorway and came to stand in front of Alan. “It seemed like a wise decision....Lars tells me you’ve become a total idiot overnight.” Sherlock touched his long fingers to Alan’s hair, running the short messy layers through his pale fingertips.  
“You think I’m a total idiot?” Alan said slowly, staring up into Sherlock’s inky blue ,darkly lashed eyes.  
“Obviously…if you think for one minute I’ll let you leave me because I won’t.” Sherlock didn’t look away as he felt Alan’s hands come up to rest over his hips. “You said you love me…you don’t get to take that back.”  
“I wasn’t going to.” Alan spoke quietly.  
“But you think I would?” Sherlock’s felt the Alpha shudder under his touch as he caressed Alan’s ear gently. “Yesterday you knew I’d be here. I didn’t leave you any clues …you just knew. “  
“That was easy.” Alan’s grip was firmly tender. His palms were warm over Sherlock’s skin just under the boy’s slim fitting t-shirt. There was a large square dressing taped to the back of Sherlock’s hand where there must have been an IV of some kind.

“I don’t want you to go…so you’re not going …ever. Even if I drive you crazy, and I will. You’re not allowed to go. I won’t let you…You’re mine.” Sherlock slid a gentle finger over the raised marks he’d left on Riddick’s lip. “Even if I make you miserable.” Sherlock’s voice was sure.  
Alan rested his face against Sherlock’s flat stomach and closed his eyes. “You couldn’t make me miserable if you tried love.”  
“I might… I know I’m moody. I can be jealous…paranoid… and I hit you Alan. I never should have done that. You’ve never hit me ever.” Sherlock’s arms slid round Riddick’s neck. ”I’m so sorry.”

Alan’s arms tightened round the Omega, his face pressed hard into Sherlock’s body. “It wasn’t all you. I said it wrong, I know that but I still mean it… I cant let you hurt yourself to please me.”  
Sherlock sounded uncertain. “I just…I’m not good in bed, I know that…I just wanted you to want me.“  
“How aren’t you good in bed? I think you are….I think I go at you a bit too much to be honest,when you probably just wanted a hug half the time.“ Alan admitted it guiltily.  
Sherlock had his arms round Alan, hugging the Alpha. “I like it, it makes me feel loved..more loved.”

Alan wasn’t sure how to best ask what he wanted to know.  
“Just ask me Alan. I know there’s something? Your face gives everything away.”  
“ In bed…when we…you said you don’t think that you’re good at it? Why’d you think that?”  
Sherlock’s voice was unsure. “ I’m not … naturally sexy.” Alan could see Sherlock hated using the word, he was blushing and looking away.  
“You’re sexy to me. Bloody Hell lad I don’t know what mirror you’ve been looking in but you’re gorgeous. “  
Sherlock looked conflicted. “ I look weird.”  
“You look pure beautiful. Every bit of you.”

Riddick sat back and tugged Sherlock closer until the Omega was on his lap with Alan’s arms round him, the boy’s long legs sprawled out as he slouched back against the Alpha.  
“My turn to find something out,” Riddick said. “ What we do in bed?... You like that yeah?... I do it right for you to feel good?”  
“Oh my God. I can’t believe you asked me that… Yes…” The Omega was pink with embarrassment . “ Same question to you…what I do…its ok? You dont need more?”  
Alan grinned …“It’s fucking unreal!.... Well there is one thing would mean a lot to me …I was wondering…. how’d you feel about calling me Big Daddy in bed…” Riddick fought to keep his face straight and his laughter hidden; making sure he sounded as narcissistic and vain as any Alpha in love with his own cock and what it could do ever could.  
Sherlock was literally gawping at Alan as though the Alpha had lost his mind…Riddick couldn’t keep from roaring laughing at the stunned look on the Omega’s face any longer…  
“O my God! You …I thought you were serious! You idiot!”  
“ Just the odd….Ohhhh BIG Daddy…maybe when I take my pants off?” Alan grinned.  
“ That’s never happening …. literally …never.” Sherlock’s smile was beautiful.

The Omega twisted around carefully, soft lips pressing kisses to Alan’s face. “No leaving me? Promise?”  
“No leaving you. Promise. I love you lad.”  
“Good.. because finding a place to hide your boots that fast was crazy ….I had to stick them in the oven…and I really don’t want to have to get that drastic again.”  
Sherlock’s shy, uncertain smile always made Alan want to kiss him hard so he did. Then he kissed him some more until Sherlock was breathless and panting.  
When Riddick stood up . taking Sherlock with him in his arms like the Omega weighed nothing, he felt the boy stiffen anxiously. “ We can’t yet Alan.... we have to wait… Lars said.”  
Alan remembered the time in the dance studio when Magnussen hadn’t waited. “Yeah?… I was thinking more we could lay down and scent? Just scent, we don’t have to be naked even…its just you smell a bit like surgical scrub… I like it when you smell of you.” Alan really wanted to rub his skin and mouth all over the lad. Erase that bloody smell of hospital…like weak bleach. He could smell blood too but he didn’t say so.  
There was a strange expression on Sherlock’s face that Riddick couldn’t place that was gone almost instantly.  
“ We can do that. “ The frail trust made Riddick’s heart ache. “ I can’t smell worse than you do …that shower gel makes you smell like jam.”  
“ Foul isn’t it. What guy uses flaming pink , bubble gum shower gel?” Alan laid Sherlock down on the bed and crawled on next to him , hugging the boy’s slim body into his and nosing at the exposed skin of his neck.  
Sherlock pushed at Alan’s sweatshirt until he had the Alpha’s toned body exposed with its warm , smooth skin. Alan sat up , pulled the sweatshirt over his head and threw it away across the room before laying back down and pulling Sherlock to him as he pulled the reindeer printed duvet up over both their heads.

 

Lars made sure he made plenty of noise unlocking the front door, walking in on the Alpha with Sherlock in a private moment wasn’t something Lars thought would go down well.  
The sitting room was empty…Alan’s jacket was still there… good…Lars noticed the bedroom door was shut…  
He’d bought a pre cooked vegan, whole wheat lasagne and whacked the oven on high to preheat it.  
Suddenly Alan came sprinting into the kitchen, barefoot, wearing jeans and with his sweatshirt on inside out. He stopped awkwardly when he saw Lars making salad, before diving past the Omega with a mumbled “ Excuse me”, throwing open the oven door and pulling out his black boots.  
Lars stared dumbfounded as the Alpha swore vehemently about how hot the heated leather was and dropped his boots twice.... What the hell!  
“Sorry…” Alan said shamefaced. Shifting the hot boots from hand to hand.He gave an embarrassed shrug and didn’t meet Lars eyes as he turned away. Then he turned back…” That lasagne …its not beef is it?” He sounded wary.  
“Soya protein.” Lars said…” and a vegan cheese and dairy-free substitute sauce made with silken tofu.”  
“Lovely……” Alan lied bravely.

Lars could hear the sound of Alan cursing fluently and Sherlock laughing hysterically as the Alpha disappeared back into the bedroom.

The Elite Omega hadn’t told the Alpha the truth …that much was clear…………


	41. Borrowed Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What future does Sherlock think he and Riddick have?..........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bide ....means stay.
> 
> Track ......The Hunger by Jack Savoretti

Alan wasn’t sure what the difference was but Christ the lad smelt incredible today and tasted even better than he smelt.  
It wasn’t the rich succulence of a heat, or the wanton invitation to take and use of the boy’s Elite Omega slick.  
Still… Sherlock smelt bloody gorgeous; the natural vanilla perfume of his skin, hair and body suddenly more condensed and intense.  
It made Alan’s mouth water.  
Twice he’d had his open mouth around the welted bite on the nape of the Elite Omega’s neck already this morning and he still hadn’t had anywhere near enough of the taste of that supple, almost oiled skin.

Sherlock rolled over groggily only to find Alan’s hand falling on his arm, stilling him before he could get out of bed.  
Not again?  
Riddick moved closer, muzzling the nape of Sherlock’s neck obsessively as his strong arms curled round Sherlock. “You smell so good love…. Really good.”  
The Omega didn’t resist as the Alpha tugged him gently back down and latched onto the sticky bond bite with an open, hungry mouth.  
Within minutes Sherlock felt confused, weak and uncoordinated and couldn’t have said no anymore if he’d wanted to.  
He could barely focus to think.

Sherlock came back around slowly. The dizzy, vague absence of sharp thinking in his head made him moan as he pushed both thin forearms against the mattress and struggled to get back up. “What time is it?”  
Alan’s palm fell on the small of Sherlock’s back.  
“We have… to get up…breakfast.” Sherlock panted the words out.  
“You smell so…”Alan groaned and began rubbing his nose against the ridged edges of Sherlock’s bite with quiet, fixed determination. “Just a few more minutes…” Alan began licking , tongue tracing skin and scars alike.  
Sherlock fought to keep his eyes open, blinking as Riddick pulled a pillow down the bed and eased it under Sherlock’s head.  
“Just you bide there lovely lad…” Alan’s mouth cupped the bones of the boy’s spine and the ruined flesh of the bond bite in his mouth and sucked…and Sherlock forgot how to move.

Lars glanced at the clock and then the closed bedroom door with concern. When Sherlock had asked him if Alan could sleep in the bed with him Lars had thought back and remembered making a similar request regarding the boyfriend of his teenage years and because it was transparently clear how much the Alpha calmed Sherlock down…he’d said yes.  
He hadn’t meant to listen in to the conversation between them both later after dinner but the awkward way Sherlock had told Alan that they could sleep in the same bed but they couldn’t have penetrative sex had caught his attention and held it.  
The Elite Omega barely looked up once to make eye contact as he spoke, picking with his long fingers at the seam of his black skinny jeans and the Alpha seemed very used to the shy way Sherlock acted, watching him attentively and not interrupting him once. The dynamic between the pair was fascinating to observe.  
Lars added another subject to the growing list of things he wanted to talk about with Sherlock…if he ever got the chance to speak with the youth without Alan present.

Alan decided he had to leave the flat and get some decent shower gel and some ‘ real’ food today…hopefully the lad would feel well enough to come along. He couldn’t take another day of smelling like a bag of candy and having his stomach growl emptily at him all day.  
It was scrambled tofu with smoked paprika for breakfast. Riddick wasn’t sure what to say…it was like nothing he’d ever tasted before….he was beginning to pine for Sherlock’s burnt , undercooked or lumpy offerings.

Sherlock emerged from the shower and Riddick braced himself for the overpoweringly bubble gum scented shower gel …but the lad still smelled divine. Alan inhaled deeply as Sherlock reached past him for the coffee pot.  
“Wait up…what shower gel did you use?” Alan reached out and took hold of Sherlock’s scarred wrist, lifting it up to his nose and inhaling deeply. Sherlock allowed it passively.  
Now Alan could get a lungful of the lad’s damp skin he knew that there was no way the boy had showered in the same cheap scented crap he had.  
“The organic citrus one…” Sherlock said all too innocently.  
“What bloody citrus one….?” Alan knew there’d been only one shower gel in Lars bathroom any time he’d been in there.  
Lars was laughing.”You didn’t think I actually showered in that pink stuff did you? My Aunt Leni gave it to me for Christmas last year for my sisters Bichon, Lily , I was minding her for a few months….she’ll be delighted that it finally got used ….Let's call it payback for my door.” He grinned smugly.  
Sherlock was shaking with laughter, exploding into crazy , wild giggles.  
“Oh for fucks sake… dog shampoo?” Riddick’s belly laugh was warm and genuine….”No bloody wonder my hairs so glossy…...”  
The hysterical peals of Omega laughter round the table were bloody good to hear.

 

By the afternoon everything had changed and nothing was fun and games anymore.  
Alan zipped up his jacket and asked again.” Are you sure you aren’t up to coming with me lad?”  
Sherlock rolled over slowly, hot water bottle between his thighs. “I don’t feel so good.”  
Alan ran his hand over the boy’s forehead. He was hot and flushed. “Cramps?”  
Sherlock panted.  
Lars bought in a cold pack for Sherlock’s forehead and the shopping list for Alan. “ The Omega pads are in an aisle called Omega Hygiene… you can’t miss them. Get a purple or a blue pack. Don’t bother with the cheap own brand ones. Not absorbent.”  
“ For fucks sake…” Alan muttered.  
“Something wrong?” Lars asked the Alpha as Sherlock gasped and turned over.  
Alan’s hand was rubbing Sherlock’s back soothingly but his stare was confrontational…..” Nope.”  
“Good,” Lars said .”Pick up this prescription from the chemist at the supermarket…if you hand it in before shopping you wont have to wait…”  
“I have been bonded before…I know how to bloody shop…” Alan said with flat annoyance.  
Now that Lars hadn’t known……

Despite the cramps Sherlock went to the window to watch Alan leave.  
When he turned around Lars was waiting patiently. “He doesn’t know does he?” Lars asked kindly.  
“No and you can’t tell him.” Sherlock winced as another raw pain caused a rush of bleeding.  
“ He couldn’t be that shocked Sherlock? He just said he was bonded before?“  
“You have no idea how he could be ….” Sherlock reached for the hot water bottle as he curled up onto one side. “The difference is …I know.”

“ You and Alan… how did all this start?” Lars was curious.  
“He was kind…. He was just kind.”  
“And your Alpha had no idea?”  
Sherlock looked away before he answered, stammering over his words. “Charles?….He….He…”  
Lars watched the boy struggle.” Did he guess?”  
Sherlock didn’t look back, he spoke with his face turned away, every emotion in his expressive voice dull. “There was nothing to guess.…we only kissed. If Charles had wanted Alan dead back then….he would be dead.”  
“And you? Sherlock, what about you…. if he finds you?”  
Sherlock simply shook his head then lowered his neck and panted harshly. Lars found he was staring right at the Elite Omega’s huge swollen bond bite…it reminded him this teenager had endured a past of suffering that very few people outside of that highly privileged world would ever understand.

“If you never get taken back there what do you want to do with your life?” Lars watched as Sherlock pushed the hot water bottle higher against his womb.  
Sherlock’s pained smile was full of bitterness. “ But he will find us…no distance we run will ever be enough. Alan knows….I know… all we have is borrowed time.”


	42. Deception?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riddick struggles to cope with what a stranger tells him..........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok the chapter summary SUCKS ....sorry about that.

Alan was already stressing about leaving Sherlock behind in Lars sole care before he had even left the building. He checked every vehicle licence plate in the car park in front of the block of flats to see if any were strange and every car parked along the road got a suspicious glance. As he drove slowly by he checked nobody was sat inside watching the comings and goings.  
That said it was good to be outside again. He was never one for being cooped up inside all day long. At Apple Dore or any one of Magnussen’s houses Riddick had always found time for an early morning run or a late evening one.

There was a low pale golden line of sun poking through the pale grey wintery sky from behind a bank of low lying cloud.

Lars had given him directions to the supermarket and a list of things he needed to buy that was long and detailed. It included Omega pads…. Bloody great… Alan didn’t think he’d ever seen a lone Alpha buy those ruddy things in a supermarket before without an Omega with him to justify the purchase. He wasn’t looking forward to the stares and sniggering at the checkout. They’d think him a total jerk.

Alan was at the lights watching an old man shuffle past when he saw another shopping centre on the left-hand side of the road. He didn’t stop to think …why would he drive another ten minutes to the supermarket Lars had directed him to on the far side of town when this one was much closer and he’d be back to the lad that much quicker.

Alan found a parking space next to a huge grimy bank of cleared snow. He pulled on a hat and turned up the collar of his jacket against the cold before hurrying across the car park and in through the shopping centre’s automatic doors.  
Inside it was light , bright and warm. There was a large chemist to the right and Alan ducked in there first and looked about for some disposable razors and shaving foam before he joined the queue at the counter.  
“Can I help you?” An Alpha guy with blonde dreads asked with a formulaic , politely helpful smile.  
“Yeah thanks, can I leave this prescription for my Omega here and collect it later?” Alan asked.  
“Of course Sir.”

Once he’d given his fake name he was out of there and collecting a basket to start shopping.  
He bought some protein powder hoping it would stave off his hunger pangs and some plain chocolate for the lad even though the price was outrageous…Alan was feeling guilty about how obsessively he’d mouthed at the boy’s bite that morning in bed.

It took him bloody ages to find some fancy vegan biscuits for Lars as a thank you gift. Vegetarian wasn’t the same thing as vegan according to the bonded Omega store assistant. No eggs allowed and no butter…how the heck could anyone still call it a biscuit without those two things? Still Lars had let them both stay and been decent, all things considered it felt like the least Alan could do right now. The lad would come up with a better way to say thanks later.

The Omega Hygiene aisle was a revelation. According to Alan’s new Omega buddy, a lot of Omega used douches that were peach or strawberry scented and claimed to reduce that natural Omega scent…also things called intimate washes. Why they would need anything like that Alan hadn’t a clue; generally, they all smelled good; Billy had smelt lovely and crisp like apples though nothing like as mouth-watering as Sherlock did. The way the lad had smelled this morning had been gorgeous, intense, and concentrated.  
Alan had no idea what he was buying with the pads, there were so many different types that without Lars instructions to buy a certain colour packet and the help from someone who knew what he was talking about he’d have been lost.

Paying was every bit as embarrassing as Alan had suspected. The bored looking Beta assistant in her forties, with chipped nail polish and dyed red hair gave Riddick a belittling stare as though she was sizing up his manhood as an Alpha.  
You’d be bloody surprised….Alan thought to himself with a wry grin. My balls might be worthless but there's nothing wrong with the size of my cock!

With everything bagged Alan headed back to the chemist…call him crazy but it seemed to him that the second the blonde Alpha who had served him earlier saw him come back in through the door that he reacted weirdly.  
For a second Alan wondered if he’d been recognised somehow , he reminded himself to stay relaxed and moved towards the door , faking an interest in the display and planning to leave as soon as another customer came in and created a diversion.  
The door opened and a Omega mum pushing a buggy came in. Alan moved to hold open the door for him , he turned about meaning to leave when a second Alpha appeared

“ Excuse me Sir. My name is Anton, I’m the pharmacist here. Could I just have a quick word with you Sir…it’s about the prescription you dropped off earlier for Will…that’s your Omega?”  
Alan weighed up the man’s physical condition with a subtle glance in case it came to a fight…he knew he was stronger and fitter. He was also armed if it came to it… “Yeah that’s my Omega. Is something wrong?” Alan tensed his fist… ready.  
“The prescription…. are you aware of where it came from and what it’s for? What the drug it covers does?”  
“Sorry, what?”

Alan was bewildered to find himself behind the counter stood in a white walled room with a set of scales and shelves up to the ceiling, facing two Alpha one of whom turned out to own the pharmacy. He’d had no idea a chemist could be pro Alpha or pro Omega but rarely both unless it was run by Beta’s until a few minutes ago.  
“This is an Alpha Pharmacy Sir, we pride ourselves on Alpha centred service here…we never get a prescription from the free Omega clinic in here since our stance on what they do there is well known locally….”  
“What they do?” Alan was confused.  
“Early stage non-surgical pregnancy terminations….” came the reply. 

Alan was finding it hard to stay seated, he could hear himself gasping for breath.  
The grey haired Alpha pharmacist was still speaking and every so often a word broke through…but the rush of blood inside his head was drowning out all thought…. The lad was pregnant? Alan was dumbfounded… How’d he even…when he couldn’t, could he? …Billy’d never conceived and the Doctors had said Alan was the one with the problem…low sperm motility which was a fancy way of saying most of his sperm didn’t swim. So how?

He could be a father!  
Reality came crashing down around him…. Sherlock with cramps… bleeding…. ‘if you are pregnant we can discuss your options’; hadn’t Lars said that?

Alan stood up with so much force the table toppled over…. That fucking BASTARD!  
“Try not to do something you’ll regret…” The other Alpha was reasoning with him, a hand on his arm but Alan didn’t pay it any heed.


	43. Dark and Bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angry Alan confronts Sherlock with everything he thinks he knows....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update may trigger....  
> In this world Alpha have been raised with a tolerance of levels of violence that are NEVER ok in any relationship...and Omega are forced into an uneasy acceptance of that physical aggression and control within society and their relationships in general.
> 
> Mebbe means maybe...pretty sure everyone knew that!
> 
> Track is Inside Out by The Chainsmokers.

Sherlock’s discomfort was bordering on pain for the last half hour, the Elite Omega had curled up in a tight ball and seemed increasingly stressed by each cramp.  
Lars wished he had what he needed to help….Alan wouldn't be back with the med’s for another half hour at the least.

The loud slam of the heavy fire door out on the landing on the floor below was the first sign something was wrong.  
Sherlock glanced up when he heard it because unlike Lars he was never completely at ease …he knew that any loud noise or random ringing at the door could mean he was found and that fear underpinned each and every day. 

There was another loud crash as the fire door on their floor was thrown open and left to slam shut then a thump at the front door.  
Lars glanced at the clock, it couldn’t be Alan …he wouldn’t be back yet.  
The keys scraped in the lock as the front door was opened.  
Sherlock began to sit up, he looked relieved to have Riddick home.

“That was some fast shopping. Did you get everything?” Lars said as Alan came in , surprised to see him back so soon.  
It was Sherlock’s sudden anxious reaction that made him realise something was wrong. The Elite Omega took one look at Alan and froze..Lars saw him move nervously to the edge of the couch as though he was about to get up…..  
“Sit yourself back down Sherlock. “ Alan’s voice was authoritive ...an order not a request.  
He snarled at Lars. “And you stay put...you lying piece of shit.”  
Lars stared. The Alpha wasn’t just angry , he was livid, shaking with rage, white faced and furious. “ Alan…. what’s happened?”  
As Lars spoke he was aware of Sherlock edging forward as though he was going to get up and bolt for safety.... and then he was up and running ; faster than Lars would have thought possible , heading for the heat suite.  
Lars leapt up and went to go after him , but Alan moved first and faster, tackling Sherlock firmly round the Omega’s slim body, his strong arms lifting Sherlock effortlessly up while the boy kicked and fought to be free. "No you don't... Not this time."  
“Alan !” Lars was shocked. “Let him go !”  
Alan paid no heed, holding on tightly round the boy's waist, forcing Sherlock to move with him until he reached the couch. “Sit down.” He set the Omega down and caught hold of the tops of the Omega’s shoulders, pressing hard until he had forced the boy down.  
As soon as he was released Sherlock hunched up, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his thin arms round them defensively.He was trembling.  
"Got something you want to tell me ?" Alan asked bluntly.  
Lars could see Sherlock shake his head, avoiding all eye contact submissively, looking down and away and making himself as small and protected a shape as possible.  
" No?....I think you do..." Alan laughed bitterly.

“Ok that’s enough.” Lars slid into the empty seat next to the boy, and reached an arm across in front of Sherlock, blocking him from the Alpha. “You’re scaring him , he isn’t well….”  
“Yeah… and whose damn fault is that?” Alan’s reaction was instantaneous and ugly, with a raw growl he grabbed at Lars and hauled him up off the couch so brusquely the Omega staggered unsteadily sideways , crashing heavily into Sherlock"s legs.  
Sherlock flinched into a cower .  
“ Calm down… lets just talk ok?” Lars had barely stood up straight when Alan shoved him again, this time away from Sherlock and Lars staggered and almost fell as he collided with the coffee table.  
“ Oh now you want to fucking talk to me? Sod talking! Get away from Sherlock!”  
Lars didn’t have time to register more than the blind, possessive anger on the man’s face before the Alpha punched him and Lars sprawled sideways , striking the coffee table with the front of his skull sharply …..he was out cold before he hit the floor….

“What are you doing?” Sherlock sounded like he wanted to cry. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong and you hit him! Get out... Get out.”  
Alan was growling , his chest heaving as he stared down at the boy he loved. “No.”  
There was a violent tremor running through Riddick as he crouched down in front of Sherlock and took hold of the Omega by both wrists, he could feel the slashed scarring under his fingers as he squeezed hard.

“Please…?” Sherlock was pleading.  
Riddick dragged in a uneven ragged breath, struggling to stay focused. “ God help me …..Sherlock are you pregnant?”  
Sherlock's wary, silent stillness made Riddick pause.  
He stared hopelessly into the lad’s gorgeous face and didn’t recognise his own hard voice as he demanded answers….”Are you killing our baby behind my bloody back? .... Tell me the bloody truth….no more fucking lies! You are aren't you? Have you taken something he gave you to stop a baby?”  
Sherlock yanked at his thin wrists furiously , fighting to leave but Alan held on without speaking.

All of a sudden Sherlock wasn’t struggling to pull back, he was still and ferally angry, his tearful eyes wild and his voice furiously defensive . “Alright.. find out this way! ...Yes I’m pregnant! No... he didn’t …..I didn’t try to kill it! Now get your hands off me ! Get off!”  
Alan let go , shocked and confused and Sherlock pushed past him and sank to his knees beside Lars.

 

“Lars …Lars..open your eyes.” Sherlock was begging, his voice tearfully distressed.  
Lars couldn't concentrate on anything but the throbbing pain that spread out through each bone of his face on that side.  
“Here…it’s an ice pack. Put that on it.” Alan!  
The cold of the ice was hard to ignore. Lars head swirled back towards consciousness sickly.  
“Don’t move yet ….it’s better if you lay still. “ Sherlock spoke as though he knew for certain.  
Lars moved slowly ,one hand cradling his mouth with a groan. He could taste blood. His mouth felt enormous….all the top lip swollen and distended.  
“I can lift him… through to the bed.” Alan sounded muted as though afraid he'd make things worse if he spoke.  
Lars had just thought to say no ; don’t you touch me …. when he was lifted and his vision span filled with endless blacked out circles. The softness of the mattress and pillows came as a relief.  
“Don’t sleep…you have to stay awake… Lars …Lars.” There was something cold being pressed to his forehead and Sherlock was insistent but Lars drifted away anyway.

When he woke again it was dark and the blinds had been pulled, there was a throw over him and the lamp was on.  
He could scent Sherlock without opening his eyes, just by the rich perfume of the boy’s skin.  
When he looked the Elite Omega was asleep next to him, pale and worn out.  
Lars rolled painfully over and sat up. It hurt to move but he forced it.

Alan was sat on the couch with his head in his hands, he looked up as Lars came in.  
Lars filled a glass with water from the kitchen tap and drained half of it before throwing the rest of the water back into the sink and walking back through into his lounge area. He took a seat in the armchair and locked eyes with Alan.  
Alan stared back at him wordlessly but at least that spared him the insult of listening to an apology.

“Why? “ Lars heard the shake in his own voice and hated hearing it. He’d been punched before by Alpha but never that hard.  
“Sherlock’s pregnant?” Alan’s voice was flat.  
“That’s something you should ask him not me.”  
“He said he was….”  
Lars nodded.  
Riddick didn’t look away, he was still angry Lars realised “Those drugs you sent me for , what the fuck were they for then?”  
Lars sighed, “You went to a different chemist didn’t you?”  
Alan gave a terse nod. “The lad says he wasn’t trying to kill it … but he's done it before...so either he’s lying to me or he isn’t and you are? Those drugs you wanted, the chemist said they…”  
Lars interrupted. “ It reduces uterine contractions , painful cramps, heavy blood loss. You’re right I prescribe it after every termination…” Riddick growled in pain. “That’s not why I prescribed it for Sherlock.”

Riddick stared at Lars , hands clenched. “ So…he’s miscarrying?”  
“Not yet….he may.”  
Riddick’s face twisted. “ I don’t understand what’s bloody going on. Why’d you both hide this from me?”  
Lars made a dismissive sound. “ If you’d asked and listened instead of frightening Sherlock and punching me unconscious you would understand.”  
Alan’s eyes were fixed on Lars face. “Then tell me.”

“ Elite Omega are different. Its rare that they conceive outside of a heat…something like 96% of all conceptions happen within a heat. “  
“We never shared one.” Alan sounded guilty.  
“I know …Sherlock told me. It's not impossible for them to conceive in the week before a heat when they ovulate. You had unprotected sex...more than once?”  
Alan nodded wordlessly. There was a strange expression on his face Lars couldn’t place...it looked like fear.  
“He must have conceived then... About five days later the blastocyst implanted in the womb. Much as it would with an Elite Alpha it stopped his heat cycle... He may have shown signs of a pseudo heat as his hormone levels rose... increased scent and some slick?" Alan nodded "….but you aren’t Elite and you aren't Sherlock’s bonded Alpha so nothing happened like it normally would. Normally... pregnant or not Sherlock would still have had a heat. The semen produced during that heat by an Alpha who is bonded to Sherlock would have plugged the cervix…that didn’t happen….his cervix is still partly open and his body is reacting to a pregnancy it sees as unviable.... the way it does that is to miscarry…. The medication wasn't just to control the pain... It can stop his contractions and hopefully give the embryo a chance to produce higher hormonal levels ….”

Sherlock’s voice came from the doorway. He was white faced and contemptuous. “ He thinks we were trying to terminate ….don’t you Alan? That’s what you think?”  
Alan didn’t look away from Sherlock's eyes , his face stricken.  
“Because I’d do that to you wouldn't I ? I just would? Behind your back? That's what you think of me?” Sherlock said it resentfully.  
“I know you didn’t…” Alan’s voice was choked with emotion.  
“Now you do….now Lars told you...you still thought it." Sherlock swayed weakly on his feet."I’m going to bed. Its been a shitty day, I’m tired and I hurt...thanks to you. You hit someone who was trying to help...that's all. Lars I’m sorry. I should never have come to you.”  
“ It's alright Sherlock It's my job and I'm happy to help...None of this was your fault. Get some sleep if you can. If you need me or the cramps get worse just wake me up. I’m sorry I haven’t got the meds to give you to help.”

Alan stared down the corridor long after the guest bedroom door had closed….Lars saw a depressed resignation on the man’s face as he stood.  
“ If he loses this baby there may not be another…. I’d tests years ago when I was bonded. Most of my sperm don’t swim like they should . some were deformed… I shouldn't even have been able to get him pregnant, my counts that low. 'Possible but highly improbable' is how they saw it.” The Alpha said it like he was discussing the weather but there was a constant vibration running through his hand that Lars could see.  
Lars knew how huge an admission that was for any Alpha. “ I’m sorry Alan.”  
Riddick shrugged. “ Least I had one swimmer in me….You’ve a better bloke than me , I punched your lights out earlier and you aren’t making the most of this…that I’m no good as an Alpha? Now's your chance.” The pain was there in his voice now, dulled by years of reluctant acceptance.  
“No.”  
“I shouldn’t have lost it like I did….It’s just …maybe my one chance to have a kid…and with Sherlock.” He shook his head, angry at himself. “If he loses it now through stress , it’ll be my fault.”  
“No ….its hormones ….nothing you did can change that….Alan does Sherlock know, about why this matters so much to you?”  
Alan snorted. “ You think he’d want to be with me if he did? A beautiful lad like that with a dud of an Alpha?”  
“I think….he loves you and you love him… You should tell him before it gets harder to be honest.”  
“Aye mebbe…” Alan squared his shoulders like he was going into battle. “ I’m going to bed…that’s if he doesn’t kick me straight out again. Wouldn’t blame him if he did.”  
“Neither would I….and Alan; if you upset him again or he says he doesn't want you in the bed…you’ll be sleeping on the couch for the rest of your stay here.”  
“Fair enough.”

The bedroom was quiet as Alan stripped and got into bed. Sherlock lay facing away from him and didn’t turn around or speak.  
Riddick lay staring at nothing, hearing Sherlock sniff back secret tears. “I’m sorry lad, I’m a fool.”  
When Sherlock didn’t speak he felt for the boy’s hand only to feel Sherlock move his away.  
Alan turned over and moved closer carefully. His arm curved over Sherlock’s thin body as his hand landed over Sherlock’s womb .  
Sherlock pushed it away. Alan knew he'd been crying from the wetness of the fingers as they touched his skin.  
"I'm a bloody ignorant bollox...I'm sorry. I think maybe you should do all the thinking for both of us from now on..."  
" How will that help unless you actually listen to me?" Sherlock said bitterly.

Riddick waited a good while before trying again. “It's a baby...yours and mine.” He could hear the pleading in his own voice...the need for forgiveness.  
Sherlock sighed, frustrated. " I know what it is... I wasn't trying to do anything to harm it ."  
Alan took a deep breath..."Do you want it?" Please say yes....  
"It doesn't matter what I want... I'm bleeding...I know how this goes."  
Alan kissed the boy low on the nape of his neck, over the scars. " Maybe not... I'm a tough bastard...you're tougher than you look. That's some strong genes...it's got a chance."

" It couldn't be worse timing..." Sherlock sounded sad.  
" Wouldn't be us if it was easy." Alan pressed his mouth against Sherlock's pale shoulder and let him feel his grin.  


"Don't get your hopes up...that's why I didn't tell you..."  
" Bit late for that love."

Riddick let his hand slide over Sherlock's jutting hip and round into the flat hollow of the Omega's body, fingers spread out protectively to cover the Omega's womb.  
This time Sherlock left Alan’s hand stay there .


	44. The Word Is Made Flesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft revisits his childhood home in the company of Greg Lestrade to collect some personal belongings to make 221b feel more familiar for Sherlock.  
> The stress and strain of the months spent searching for Sherlock finally take a physical toll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning since this update contains a suicide note that Sherlock wrote the night before he was bonded to CAM.
> 
> BlueTrasno rec'd the perfect soundtrack for this update ....Its by Phillip Glass and its the music from a movie called The Hours...huge thanks for that!

Greg had always liked the look of the English countryside but, like so many Londoners born and bred, he rarely ventured outside the great sprawling city that stretched from horizon to horizon. It made a change not to be the one behind the wheel, having to concentrate on the road, instead he was free to soak in every new picturesque change as the chauffeur driven car left the traffic and sleepless bustle of London further behind.  
Unlike his own rattling motor with its hanging pine tree air freshener and old takeaway coffee cups the Daimler motor almost purred and its spacious, fine cream leather seats smelled of money.  
As villages go this one was picture book pretty with its varied cottages. There was a narrow stone bridge that looked medieval spanning the winding river and a village pond with ducks on it surrounded by reeds. Greg indulged himself trying to imagine the man sat across from him in the back seat in a immaculate pale grey check three piece suit doing anything as mundane as feeding the ducks.

As if he knew Greg’s thoughts, Mycroft raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Really Gregory? Wild fowl managed perfectly well for years without human intervention in the form of stale bread.”  
Damn him! Greg smiled. “You never came down and threw in the odd crust from a loaf of white sliced?”  
“I certainly did not...Mother never approved of store bought pre-sliced bread.” Mycroft gave the pretty oval pond with its white wooden railing a second glance…it would have been exactly the sort of thing Sherlock would have longed to do however….  
Greg blinked. “ No cheese and pickle sandwiches? No beans on toast? Boiled egg and soldiers? No warm French bread smothered in butter?”  
Mycroft’s mouth twitched. “ All bread items on Mother’s banned list….”  
“You cheated and ate something anyway didn’t you? You can’t fool me, sandwich smuggling was part of my training. Own up.” Greg’s sense of fun was irrepressible.  
“I may have indulged in the rare French baguette filled with mature St David’s Cheddar , a thinly sliced vine ripened tomato from the estate greenhouse and ham … scattered with a crushed packet of prawn cocktail crisps from the village shop.”  
“ Knew it. Prefer cheese and onion myself though, "..... and that triggered a wide ranging nostalgic conversation about food that engrossed them both.

 

The black Daimler slowed as it turned in through a grand set of ornate black wrought iron gates.  
Greg noticed a coat of arms right in the middle of the ironwork…two hounds bringing down a deer.  
" The deer represents the Omega line and the hounds the Alpha lineage. " Mycroft said matter of factly...Greg looked at the hounds dragging at what would be the soft under belly and throat of the terrified deer and wisely said nothing.

The armed guards took him by surprise.  
“ A sad necessity since the arson attack on the family chapel.”  
Greg could see nothing of the house yet , the endless glossy leaved rhododendron bushes either side of the drive hid it from view as it drove along the sweeping drive….and then the car drove out among immaculate gardens and the huge, elegant Georgian facade of the imposing , elegant house with its wide, weather worn steps up to the front door came into view.  
Greg was speechless….  
“That degree of laxity can’t be good for your jaw Gregory.” Mycroft’s voice was drily humorous but behind the amused façade his eyes were cold and expressionless as he stared grimly at the front door….

Greg had never been inside what amounted to a stately home before and the vast empty rooms , filled with furniture covered in white dust sheets filled him with unease, as did the straight , determined line of Mycroft’s mouth.  
"This part of the house dates from 1574. One of Sherlock's favourite places to sit and read in the winter was ...Ah here it is!" Mycroft had been searching underneath the dust sheets that covered every piece of furniture in the old Tudor walking gallery and had located a comfortably red floral faded armchair, the seat of which looked to be stuffed with its original Victorian horse hair upholstery..  
Stealing a glance out of one of the tall windows Greg saw a huge ancient maze with its entrance guarded by two statues of a huge grey hound at rest with their heads on their outstretched paws. The frost on the immaculately maintained lawns and hedges glinted like silver in the morning sun.  
From the walls generations of Alpha Holmes stared down from gilt framed paintings with disapproving eyes as Greg followed Mycroft upstairs …Greg had never thought about what Mycroft and his brother’s Elite status actually meant in human terms but now seeing portrait after family portrait on the walls he saw a fundamental difference…no women at all, the line was entirely male.

Mycroft hid the quick shallow inhalation he took before he opened the door to Sherlock’s room and unleashed its memories…..

It was a boy’s room , full of strange collections of objects on every available shelf and window sill. Hand written musical scores scattered across the desk in a untidy pile , held down by a antique glass Clichy paperweight worth thousands ,with a colourful glass mushroom at its core.  
The book shelves were so full that books had been stacked on top of books. right to the top of each packed shelf, with various papers crammed in between and in front of the books were all the strange objects that had always appealed to the magpie within Sherlock. The bone white skull of an owl , skeleton leaves, a long legged insect caught and entombed forever in green Baltic amber, the whole shed skin of an adder, a glass eye, metal magic tricks that linked together like chains, a collection of feathers stuck behind an empty Victorian, blue ridged glass, poison bottle and in a plain glass fronted , pale wooden case the dead body of a large bat surrounded by the darkly glossy shell casings of beetles.

Greg’s eye fell the page of a folded newspaper on the desk…MAN FINDS FACE OF CHRIST ON PIZZA the headline proclaimed …in a neat script someone had added the words …’man is clearly a idiot’…. just underneath the words. Greg recognised the article beneath it…Carl Powers , poor kid had drowned in a tragic accident. Someone had drawn and redrawn a huge question mark in red ink around the photo of the poor kid and the article on his tragic death.

Greg had seen too many rooms like this one before…very differently furnished but with the same indefinable sense that they were still waiting for the person who had lived there to come back and inhabit them again …in the homes of every abducted child he had ever helped search for.  
Even the bed was still made up.

Mycroft stood still and silent in the middle of the floor.

“ Where do you think you should start?” When Greg spoke and broke the silence he didn’t miss the quick, almost startled flinch Mycroft gave, the Alpha had been lost in thought.  
“ The books I think… I’ll be some time…please feel free to explore the house and grounds if that would interest you Gregory?"  
Greg simply held out his hand for the handwritten book list. “ Together we’ll make faster work of it.”  
There was a flash of some deep emotion in Mycroft’s astute blue-grey eyes that Greg couldn’t define, the pleased note in the Elite Alpha’s voice was easily understandable though.  
“Indeed. Thank you Gregory. The company…your company…. is most welcome.”

When Gregory had finished finding book after book and marking each one off on the list with a tick he had four huge piles on the floor and a much better understanding of just how eccentrically intelligent Mycroft’s younger brother must have been.  
There wasn’t a book without copious hand written notes on most of its pages, many were filled with extra pieces of paper that fluttered out if Greg wasn’t careful. As he picked up the latest fallen note he realised it was a letter sealed with a large melted blob of red wax into which a stamp of the Holmes crest had been pressed down deeply.

“Mycroft…there’s a letter.”  
Mycroft had been sat at the desk that faced the garden sorting through sheets of hand written music in shirt and waistcoat. He looked sharply at Greg’s face.  
As he received the letter he stared down at the handwritten words on the front silently.

 _Mycroft Holmes…._  
Open only in the event of my death.  
_William Sherlock Holmes_

Greg watched as Mycroft reached for a small metal ruler that lay next to a Cross fountain pen and a bottle of blue ink and slid it under the seal. There was a crisp crack as the wax broke and fell away onto the wide oak floor boards like so many dried droplets of congealed blood.

 _Mycroft_  
Please don’t think badly of me.  
Do you remember when I was six and you built the pirate ship out on the croquet lawn using all the chairs from the dining room?  
You even built a plank out of the spare table leaf and it wobbled when I walked down it with my blindfold on and for a second I was scared because I didn’t know where the end was and I thought that was the most terrifying thing.  
I was wrong.  
Not knowing what comes after the next step you take is frightening but knowing that no step you take will ever find the moment the plank ends is far worse.  
If you are reading this then I found my end and at least I had one choice as an Elite Omega that I was free to make and I made it.  
As a big brother… you were the very best.  
‘Overly sentimental Sherlock’ you will say but it’s still true.  
_William Sherlock Holmes_

Mycroft watched his hand with the letter in it begin to shake…the shaking grew and grew and spread into his arm.  
There was a vibration in his leg that he couldn’t stop.  
A darkness spreading inwards from the edges of his vision.  
“Mycroft? ….Mycroft!”  
Gregory was crouching down and reaching for him, his face and voice full of concern and then the chair slipped away and Mycroft fell sideways , hitting the floor and knew no more as he thrashed on the boards.


	45. Blood Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft reveals a little more about his past and the guilt that shaped him....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly coddling....spoiling.
> 
> Next update CAM may be back!!!!
> 
>  

As always after a seizure Mycroft found it hard to feel he was completely focused on what was happening around him, thought after thought slipped away as soon as he considered its relevance. There was a deep, generalised aching throughout the muscles of his body that left him fatigued and unable to find the energy to shape words in response to the unfamiliar, concerned voice of the paramedic he could hear asking him if he was ok.  
Gregory was answering the ambulance man’s questions concerning what had happened with competence and Mycroft saw no reason to speak up and add to the facts that Gregory had provided ...until the dreaded phrase "short trip to the ER to be assessed ‘ was uttered. This time wasting absurdity had usurped far too many moments in his day already...enough was quite enough!

Mycroft’s crisply perfect Elite pronunciation thankfully still commanded respect even if his vocal projection left much to be desired. “ That won't be necessary thank you. A glass of cool water should suffice.” He didn’t attempt sitting upright…in his experience an undignified struggle to gain a vertical posture prematurely was generally undermining and it was best to remain prone until certain it could be achieved with dignity.

Yes... he had known he was epileptic since childhood, yes... he was ‘ sure’ he felt no worse than was to be expected usually….no... he hadn’t remained unconscious for longer than was his norm…no...he had suffered no head trauma during his fall….  
In short…..and finally he felt this did really did need to be verbalised , no more attention was necessary.  
”Thank you for your prompt attention but I think that will be all!”

There was an offended silence followed by indignation and whatever mumbled excuses for his perceived rudeness that Gregory was able to muster.  
The silence that followed the closure of the door behind the disgruntled medic was a distinct improvement.

“ Well..you peed him off! Glass of water?” Gregory said cheerfully.  
Mycroft accepted the glass with relief.“ It had to be done. I simply cannot lose hours to the somewhat erratic time management of the NHS....Thank you Gregory…”  
"You're welcome ...I'm used to moving people along who don't want to go, its all part of the job."

Into the silence..."So.... all Sherlock’s books you had on the list have been packed up. I wasn’t sure which music or violin you had chosen?”  
“Neither. Sherlock took his favourite with him when he was bonded. He played exceptionally well. According to Alan Riddick he still played while he lived with Magnussen but only at night, on the rare occasions when he was alone…. I was considering making a new purchase for him, perhaps a Stradivarius.” Mycroft opened his eyes and blinked at the light.  
“Some gift!” Greg gave a low whistle.  
The glaring light subsided as Gregory pulled the heavy brocade curtains and cut out the wintry sunlight.  
“If it gives him pleasure.” Mycroft said.

“ His room….” Gregory hesitated.  
“Ah… you’d like to know why I kept it as it was?…Dismantling the very space he'd inhabited felt wrong. The housekeeper keeps everything dusted but moves nothing as instructed. Sherlock hated it when his things were disturbed… while there may seem to be no order but he always knew if Daddy or Mummy had moved something. It upset him."  
“You never moved anything yourself?”  
Mycroft made a small tight sound , amused at the very idea. “ No. It was all he had that he held any degree of autonomy over.. ”

When Mycroft sat up he realised just how weak he still felt.  
Gregory pushed a pillow behind his back somewhat awkwardly and at a completely uncomfortable angle.  
Still it was a kind gesture….

“ What do you think Sherlock’ll do when he has his life back? To look at his belongings …he has a lot of interests? He could be anything?”  
Mycroft’s wrist shook as he drank. The water was cold and sweet. The taste of the countless long summer days that made up his childhood. “IF he has that opportunity. Have you ever had cause to enter the Bond Courts Gregory?”  
Greg shook his head. “Never , its a beautiful old building though. Very strange. A real landmark.”  
“ The heraldic beasts each represent one of the oldest Elite families. Behind the façade lie the real beasts... each Judge carefully selected by an Elite minority who have a vested interest in maintaining the status quo…” Mycroft straightened his cuff link fastidiously. “ A group of repellent old men ruling over the lives of teenage Omega boy's they salivate over the thought of possessing.”

“There’s big money involved too ?.”  
“Astronomical sums…all of it at the very highest levels constantly moved backwards and forwards between a select few Elite Alpha families, never outside the acceptable circle…the blood line must be kept pure. “  
“John says that causes its own issues.” Greg was tactful.  
“Inbreeding? Lets not indulge in ’comforting’ vagaries of description, I detest such things. John’s correct...its rarely spoken of of course. As a class we have significantly higher rates of fetal abnormality and miscarriage , stillbirth, haemophilia, pernicious anaemia, even epilepsy…. inherited genetic weaknesses that have been perpetuated and distilled down the generations.”  
“So...your epilepsy ...was inherited from which side of the family? Mum or Dad?”  
Mycroft gave a sardonic shake of his head. “ I come from a social class in which Alpha males hold all power and know themselves to be untouchable by most common laws Gregory…if there is any issue with deformity or illness it is NEVER the fault of the Alpha line. Such ‘flaws’ are always considered the fault of the Omega parent, there was never any suggestion that my Father should submit to genetic testing.”  
Greg snorted inelegantly. “You're kidding ? It takes two to make a baby but only one set of DNA counts if its less than perfect?”  
Mycroft nodded. “ Mother never had a seizure in his life yet he maintained this absurd deceit that the problem had its roots in his Omega lineage. Both Sherringford and myself suffered despite having two different mother’s…yet Sherlock as an Omega did not. I made the link before I was thirteen.”

Greg frowned thoughtfully. “ That’s Mother’s for you….mine refused to allow me to wear my reading glasses because ‘ nobody in this family ever had bad eyes!’…I couldn’t read a thing on the white board at school for months before she gave in and even then it was all my fault for ‘reading in the dark at night’ and 'ruining' my eyes.”  
Mycroft’s well shaped mouth gave an amused twitch. “You outgrew the need I see.”  
“For my Mum or for the glasses?” Greg asked with a cheeky twinkle in his hazel eyes.  
“Both one would assume..?”  
“Well you never really outgrow your Mum do you. However tall you get they only ever see you as a big kid.”

A fleeting sadness crossed Mycroft’s face and was gone and hidden in an instant.  
Greg hesitated….choosing his words carefully. “You were closest to your brother?”  
“ An admirably phrased question Gregory…much kinder than asking me outright if I felt my own Mother loved me; or indeed any of his children.” Greg opened his mouth ready to apologise for tactlessness but Mycroft shook his head in a small , negative gesture. “ No…there is no need to apologise Gregory. You are of course correct… Mother was not maternally minded but Sherlock was an adorable child and I was besotted. He was extremely affectionate and that in itself was a rarity in our household. Neither Father nor Mother believed in molly coddling as they saw it. No cuddling , no bedtime stories, no kissing….Mother believed children required stimulating creatively in order to thrive…learning musical instruments or multiple languages. Father felt we needed strict discipline and rules, academic, mental or physical challenges; especially those focused on developing courage. Sherlock always needed so much more….”  
Greg didn’t look away. “ And you didn’t? How old were you? Ten.... twelve? At that age my mum still gave me a hug.. Hell she still does.”  
“ I was older than Sherlock... less emotionally needy. Capable of occupying myself, I was used to being alone and I was treated as though I at least had some potential…once Sherlock left the nursery and Nanny’s care he was excluded from the family, belittled and demeaned on a daily basis. It was all the more cruel because he didn't understand why.”  
Mycroft heard again Siger’s stern voice . “Did anyone here express an interest in your opinions Sherlock? …Did I give you permission to speak boy?.… Stop indulging him Mycroft or he’ll never learn!….STOP CRYING SHERLOCK! BE SILENT BOY OR I'LL GIVE YOU GOOD REASON TO CRY !”  
“So you looked after him? Protected him?"... Loved him very obviously.  
Mycroft swallowed guiltily. “ I would like to answer yes ...truthfully I approached him like an experiment in mind control Gregory. I had childish notions that I could shape him into someone else who could control himself emotionally ; it was all achievable if I could only teach him to be more detached... I rationed the amount of time I allowed him to indulge in childish games or affection strictly, or I attempted to …Sherlock had his own ideas, he’d appear in my bed over night claiming he had nightmares or could not sleep, he’d hug me…it was …difficult to say no. “  
In a lonely , unhappy household... of course it was hard to resist a cuddle! “He had you wrapped round his little finger?” Gregory softened the phrase with a smile.  
“He did…I suspect he still will. “ Mycroft’s smile was sadly hopeful.

Greg had just opened his mouth to reply when there was a sharp knock at the door and it opened to reveal one of Mycroft’s aides, a smartly dressed young Beta man. “Sorry to disturb you Sir …we believe we have a new lead on Sherlock’s location…..”  
Mycroft was on his feet in seconds.


	46. The History Of Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CAM plays with Aleksander's mind....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story of Alcibiades is true...of course his wife was a woman but the story itself is fundamentally the same, the one change being that she wanted the divorce as he liked the company of prostitutes !
> 
> Thanks BlueTrasno for an incredible track rec...Angel of Small Death & the Codeine Scene by Hozier.... perfect track, really works with the scene.

Aleksander looked curiously at Fader’s newest painting. From far away the painting had looked like what it was….a young man with no clothes on ....but from this close it diidn't look at all like skin. It was just colours layered confusingly across and through other colours. The swirling, thickly applied raised patterns and textures in the oil paint made him want to touch but he knew that wasn’t allowed….

“Do you like the painting? You know who it is?” Charles asked dispassionately when the child returned to the couch.  
Aleksander nodded solemnly. He gave the painting another stare now he was sat back on the huge luxuriously upholstered couch opposite his Fader.  
The bare skin of the naked youth in the oil painting ; who was laid on his back on the dark red day bed, was pale as ivory and the elegant shape of his bones showed through his skin at wrists and rib and hips. Most of the beauty of his face was obscured; his head turned away as though he was trying to hide under the sharply bent angle of his forearm. The dark tumbling chaos of his curls spilled out messily over the cushions beneath his head.  
Aleksander’s eyes glanced shyly away from the penis he could see lay softly against a pale thigh.  
That was rude… to show your penis was rude. His governess had told him that.

“Do you know who it is?” Charles asked again.  
Aleksander nodded. "It's Sherlock”  
Charles smile was malicious. “It is indeed your Mother. I commissioned it from an artist who has painted the Queen of Denmark. That means I specially asked for the artist to paint Sherlock like this.”  
Aleksander fidgeted. “Without clothes?”  
Charles was interested in the boy’s answer. “Does that shock you? That he is naked?“  
“Miss Vesterguaard said …its rude to show or touch the body parts that are under our pants.” Aleksander looked at the painting anxiously then away again fast to check what his Fader’s opinion was.

Charles laughed out loud, not troubling to hide his sarcastic contempt for such opinions and Aleksander blushed a deep, humiliated pink. “Lesser individuals may think so but such prudery reveals their lower status. A beautiful Elite Omega like Sherlock was made to be taken and used. As my son you should never allow the opinions of anyone beneath you to influence the choices you make.“  
Aleksander nodded but his young face still showed his confusion.

Charles took a measured mouthful of cognac, studying the child’s expressive face as he did so. “Sherlock is very beautiful is he not? His face is perfect?” Aleksander nodded firmly, very sure of that truth. “ Do you remember how soft his skin was? How the scent of his body filled even his hair? How it felt to lay close to him?... The beauty hidden under his clothes is no less perfect than the beauty anyone can see in his face. Indeed his naked body has the added pleasure of being mine alone to touch and enjoy like anything else rare and beautiful that I own.”  
“He’s mine too because I grew inside him?" Aleksander’s childish voice was strangely possessive.  
" You were born from his body, that makes him yours but make no mistake you are MY son. Mine was the seed ...but yes, Sherlock carried you inside his body." Charles watched impassively as his son’s face crumpled.  
Aleksander’s voice was emotional. “If he has to do whatever you say Fader then….I want him to come home. Edmund and Hugh said he went away because he doesn’t love me anymore...and maybe because I was a baby? They said I’m the odd one out because they all have Omega Mother’s who love them.“ The child’s blue eyes were full of tears.  
“ Enough….. you are an Elite Alpha not a snivelling Omega!”

Charles waited in silence while Aleksander sniffed. “ I have a story to tell you. Come stand in front of me.”  
“ A story? “ The tearful excitement in the child’s face was easy to read.  
“One my Father told me when I was a boy as you are now….You have been reading the stories of Greece at school have you not?” Aleksander nodded. “ Well this story also comes from the land of Achilles and from the great city that was built there called Athens. It is the story of a first born Elite Alpha son called Alcibiades , whose father died when he was still a boy like you are. Alcibiades was young, handsome and brilliant and lived a life beyond the wealth and power of any other great Elite family in the city…..every man was jealous and wanted to be him and have all that he owned. He didn't do as anyone beneath him said he must...he did as he wanted! Now Alcibiades was bonded to a beautiful young Elite Omega from an old family who was called Hipparete. One day Alcibiades came home to find that his Omega Hipparete had been stolen away by his jealous family who planned to break the bond and give the beautiful Hipparete to another Alpha. On the very day that Hipparete’s family came before the Bond Court there was noise and shouting and then..silence..... Alcibiades had come to reclaim what was always his! In he came striding into the law courts without a care , he forced the lying family back , seized his Omega , threw him over one shoulder and walked out ….none dared stop him or stand in his way. All stood aside. The Bond between Alcibiades and Hipparate was never broken...indeed they had three children together and their bond was broken only when Hipparate died.”

Aleksander gave an excited smile. “ You could do that Fader. You are strong. You could take Sherlock back just like that and nobody could say anything.“  
“I could…but I have another idea... since you are my first born son, we will share it as long as you swear you will tell nobody?" Aleksander nodded solemnly. "Good ... Imagine if you and I tricked everybody who has kept Sherlock from us....just as Achilles did with his trojan horse. That would be a great thing as it was in Greek history wouldn’t it? Do you know how jealous and stupid those boys' at school who dared to tease you would feel then , when every boy in your class would be begging you to tell them the story ?…. And Sherlock….Sherlock would love you so much for bringing him home and making sure he is safe with us forever. He must be afraid without our protection... you know he is weak and so very fragile.”

There was a fierceness to the child as he answered. “ We can do it Fader. We can make him swear a blood oath ... that he will never go away again.”  
Magnussen reached out to pat Aleksander on his head of fair hair as he stared up at the painting of Sherlock’s naked body , his eyes full of anger. “ Just so…we will have him swear in blood when he returns…..”

There was a knock upon the door and Zaman entered and waited for permission to approach and speak. When Magnussen nodded he bent down and spoke quietly into the Elite Alpha’s ear.  
Magnussen nodded and waited for the Butler to step back before holding the phone Zaman had presented him with to one ear.

A heavily accented male voice spoke...“I have news. A prescription for a drug used in the aftermath of abortion was handed into an Alpha pharmacy by a man successfully identified as Alan Riddick only two weeks ago….it was traceable to an Omega Doctor at a local free clinic....I have this man under surveillance.”  
The raw ferocity of Charles sudden snarl made Aleksander turn and stare fearfully at the callous hatred on his Fader's face. " Return my Son to his rooms." 

Charles waited until the door had closed, his hand clenched in a fist. "Now...tell me all you know. Every last detail...."


	47. What Goes Down Must Come Up...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock isn't feeling so good.... so neither is Alan......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought we'd have something semi fluffy before the angst.... BTW...Ramenophelia is totally real........
> 
>  
> 
> Track ....In My Blood by Leo Stannard.

Morning.....  
Riddick sat on the edge of the mattress and listened to the sounds of hopeless retching coming from the bathroom. He knew better than to try and go in…the Omega could be snappy when he wanted privacy  
The small plate of dry toast he’d made Sherlock to try and settle his stomach, lay almost untouched on the end of the bed…. just three small bites and a mouthful of green tea had been enough to send the lad running to the bathroom with one hand clamped tightly over his own mouth.  
Alan moved the plate to the floor on his side of the bed where Sherlock wouldn't see it.

The toilet flushed and Alan heard Sherlock brushing his teeth…stopping to retch in the middle twice…even something as simple as that ,seemed to make the boy’s stomach heave.  
The Omega was reluctant to eat or drink anything except water and even that had come back up yesterday. Strong cooking smells, scented candles, the smell of aftershave, milk in tea …all had been added to the ‘puke list ‘ as Sherlock had named it with a black sense of humour.

Sherlock turned off the light and closed the bathroom door before climbing back into bed.  
Alan got a good look at him finally…he looked pale but he managed a small, exhausted smile, before closing his eyes with a sigh.  
“Stomach empty?” Alan laid a hand on the lad’s forehead…he felt cold and clammy.  
“Hopefully…” Sherlock’s throat sounded sore.  
“ We should give Lars a call later. See if he can help.”  
“There’s nothing anyone can do…it’s the hormones.” Sherlock sounded depressed. “It happens every time.” He was shivering weakly... Riddick pulled the duvet up over him.  
“Can’t hurt to ask.” Alan said. He pressed a kiss into Sherlock's hair. “How about a mint? Freshen your mouth up.”  
Sherlock shuddered in disgust. “Please don’t mention eating anything…ever again.” He didn’t sound like he was joking…..

Lunch time.....  
Sherlock lay still and swallowed down the creeping nausea trying to bubble up his throat.  
" Budge up love." Riddick sat down next to Sherlock and offered him a mug of soup he’d made from some strange type of powdered soup mix and boiling water from the kettle.  
The Omega opened his eyes queasily as the smell hit him. “What is it?” He asked as his stomach swirled and eddied threateningly.  
“Tomato cuppa soup…. You should eat something. Just a few spoons lad?” Alan sounded worried.  
It was a bright artificial red colour like ketchup. Dark green flecks that looked nothing like real herbs floated on the top of the mug in a sickly scum. It smelt disgusting…  
Sherlock pushed Alan's hand and the mug away urgently and sped for the bathroom before he was undone.

Dinnertime......  
Alan knew before he asked but still asked anyway….”Can you eat anything?”  
Sherlock raised his head from the plastic bowl balanced on top of a towel in his lap.” Do I look as though I can eat anything?” He said witheringly.  
" Right..." Alan threw some turkey mince and chilli burgers into the griddle pan, and flattened them down with a fork before tearing open a bread roll.  
“Sorry….It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have said that.” Sherlock sounded sad.  
“It is though isn’t it? If I hadn’t been so fucking careless you wouldn’t be feeling like shite right now.” Alan couldn’t hide his guilt anymore.  
Sherlock frowned. “ You’re blaming yourself? Don’t.”  
“Easy to say lad.” Alan turned the burgers over, dropped the fork into the pan and swore.

Sherlock looked at him sharply. “My being sick… it reminds you of Billy…”  
“ Aye….” Alan admitted it flatly. It was the suppressed emotion in his voice that gave him away.  
“I’m pregnant …I’m not ill.” Sherlock’s voice came from right behind him.... "Alan?"  
Alan stood still; not wanting his face seen till he could control himself.  
Sherlock stepped closer and reached both arms round Alan, pressing his face to the Alpha’s back. “It’s a stage…it’ll stop soon and I’ll be fine.”  
“What if it doesn’t and you’re not?..”  
“I will be.” Sherlock said it with certainty. Riddick heard him swallow hard. “Only…we should add turkey mince and chilli burgers to the ‘puke list’….maybe bread too.’  
And if he didn’t laugh hopelessly at the honest, sad truth of that, Alan genuinely thought he’d cry….

Bedtime…….  
Sherlock fitted into his arms. The lad had this way of cuddling into your body as close as he could get and pushing for more cuddling… all at the same time.

“You’re the only scent I can tolerate right now.” Sherlock’s lips brushed the skin of Alan’s shoulder as he spoke.  
“Me?” Alan grinned. “ Like the smell of sweaty armpits do you?”  
Sherlock smiled. “If I said yes…it massively turns me on , SO much…would you ever wash again?”  
“Probably not.” Alan admitted gruffly. “ Just so I know before summer starts and I buy a deodorant…it doesn't do anything for you does it?”  
Sherlock’s ribs shook as he laughed. “No…Watching you shave does though.”  
“ Oh? Does it now? That’ll be me forever beardless then so.”  
He could hear the hidden giggle in Sherlock’s voice. “The more shave foam you use the more excited I get. It’s a fetish called foamophilia.”  
“Liar….” Riddick laughed.  
“There is an actual fetish called ramenophelia though…its when you get aroused by rubbing noodles on your own genitals or someone else’s.”  
“Bloody Hell! …Cooked or hard out the packet?” Alan sounded impressed.  
“Not sure,” Sherlock admitted.  
“Takes all types.” Alan said tolerantly.

“ What turns you on?” Sherlock ran a hand over Alan’s hard bicep…that part of Alan turned him on but he wasn’t about to admit that.  
“You…just you lad.”  
“Even if I get so big I can’t see my own feet under my belly and waddle about like a goose?”  
Riddick pretended to think about it...”It’ll never happen.”  
“It might… identical triplets run in the Holmes family line.”  
Alan squinted his eyes at Sherlock. “They bloody don’t do they…?”  
“Ha…. you should see your face…totally freaked out!” Sherlock laughed hysterically.  
Alan grinned sheepishly. “ I don’t stand a chance here do I?”  
“You never did.” Sherlock said smugly.

Alan rolled them both over and bent his head down to kiss the Omega.  
Sherlock turned his face away and hid his mouth against Alan’s arm. “ I won’t taste nice...toothpaste masking sick breath.”  
Alan placed a kiss carefully just behind Sherlock’s ear , on the pale vulnerable skin of the boy’s neck. “Don’t care…come here gorgeous lad.”  
Sherlock wound his arms up around Riddick’s neck and let Alan slip the tip of his tongue between his lips and into his mouth....


	48. Deciding Factors...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lars worries about Sherlock and Riddick and makes a decision that could prove to be more of a mistake.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Berlin and Germany are on my mind...

Lars lathered his hair twice while whistling Abba tracks.  
It was nice to have his flat back to himself but he couldn’t shake the worries he hadn’t been able to voice about Sherlock’s situation.  
The Elite Omega was underweight and severely anaemic, in no fit condition mentally or physically to cope well with the demands of a pregnancy or childbirth and that wasn’t even close to being the thing about him that worried Lars the most.  
Although Sherlock was a mystery…. living with him had revealed him a little more day after day and what Lars saw was concerning.

He didn’t need to be told that Sherlock had been beaten severely at some point, he would have guessed it from the teenager's behavioural responses alone.  
The Elite Omega looked away anxiously whenever there was a scene of angry violence or shouting on the TV and he flinched at sudden loud noises outside the flat in the main hallway.  
Most noticeable of all had been his wary, instantly fearful response when Alan had returned angrily to the flat after discovering what the drug Lars had prescribed was often used for…. the panicked way Sherlock had sprinted for the safety of Lars lockable heat suite had confirmed everything the Doctor had already suspected about the brutality of the Omega’s past. In addition to what a shocked Lars had seen of Sherlock’s abnormal reaction to being physically manhandled; lifted off his feet and restrained by Alan, it painted a very revealing picture of Sherlock’s actual Alpha, whoever he was. The behaviour Sherlock accepted without complaint … physical control… must have been very much the norm.

 

Alan also confused Lars… while he fitted the stereotype of a dominant Alpha in appearance and temperament at times and was aggressively over protective; even violent if he perceived a threat to the Elite Omega as Lars had found out to his cost…. Sherlock seemed sure he could trust him.  
Just watching them together was interesting. The Elite Omega treated the Alpha much like he would a piece of comfortable furniture at times…shoving Alan’s muscular bicep aside so he could rest against the man’s chest or pushing the newspaper the Alpha was reading out of the way so he could put his socked feet up on the man’s thighs. It was far from typical behaviour even inside a bond....and they acted very much as if there was one between them.

Riddick had the dominant Alpha gender yet he deferred to Sherlock in small ways throughout the day without seeming to notice that he did so. Perhaps it was a legacy of having been employed in Sherlock’s Alpha’s household, but Lars didn’t think so…. Alan’s attitude towards Sherlock was indulgent, devotedly so.

Through the wall at night when Alan and Sherlock were sleeping together in the guest bed, Lars could hear them talking and laughing and all seemed very normal before they fell silent for sleep… but later when the flat was quiet and Lars guessed they thought him still asleep he heard noises and low worried voices again, sometimes the light under their door stayed on for most of the night. Lars guessed that Sherlock suffered from acute insomnia and what sounded suspiciously like nightmares….it hadn’t been possible to check if that was the case…. intruding into the bedroom Alan shared with the Omega to ask about random noises in the night felt about as wise as wandering into a lion’s den carrying a steak!

Since Sherlock and Riddick had left Lars flat to go wherever ‘home’ was he had received three late night phone calls , the teenager was still spotting blood but the cramps had stopped and the nausea was much worse over the last three days. Whether that meant the pregnancy was lost or successfully embedded Lars wouldn’t know for certain until Riddick bought the Omega into the clinic for an early pregnancy scan later today when the clinic had closed for the night. They should be able to detect a heartbeat on the ultrasound if it was viable.

How Sherlock felt about the pregnancy was another issue that Lars hadn’t established yet. He’d obeyed everything Lars had asked of him without argument but Lars recalled clearly the stunned shock on the teenagers face when Lars had told him that the pregnancy test had been positive.  
“But we've only done anything four times and never in a heat.” Sherlock had sounded bewildered.  
“Once is all it takes sometimes. “Lars had said kindly.  
“Oh….” Had been Sherlock’s incredulous response, his face blankly unreadable.

The internal examination Lars had attempted to perform to confirm that the bleeding was coming from the Elite Omega’s open cervix had been impossible, even with all his years of experience and a bedside manner that Lars prided himself was comfortingly reassuring.  
Sherlock’s shaking had become more pronounced as soon as Lars had pulled the privacy screen across and even the gas and air and a sedative injection; the two options that usually enabled things to go smoothly hadn’t helped.  
The Elite Omega had kept apologising nervously throughout as though it was his fault he was so scared that Lars couldn’t even begin.

Pain should never be an accepted part of an internal examination in Lars opinion yet for far too many of the Omega he saw it had been an humiliating painful experience previously. It was obvious Sherlock had been severely traumatised and any attempt to continue would cause him extreme pain so before Sherlock could become anymore distressed Lars had called a halt, and offered Sherlock knock out sedation. He’d seen the immediate relief on the teen's face.

Sherlock had become panicked all over again at the idea that he would have to stay with Lars and be monitored throughout the night and it taken the better part of an hour and a series of steadily worsening cramps that left him breathless to finally persuade him.  
Even then as Lars inserted the IV into Sherlock’s thin hand the Omega had been concentrating on how Alan would react and how Lars could manage him when he turned up. The prospect hadn’t filled Lars with anything other than a sick cold dread in his stomach but he would have agreed to anything at that stage just to treat Sherlock.  
As it had turned out Sherlock had guessed how the Alpha would react exactly …though he’d severely underestimated the degree of angry physicality in the man’s response. Lars knew now why that was…Sherlock saw a side of Alan that few probably experienced....patient and gently loving.

As Lars put on the kettle he wondered which side of the Alpha he would have to deal with today…the pleasantly likeable man who listened and cared for Sherlock with a calm patience or the dominantly protective Alpha who was as unpredictable as he was taciturn and intimidating.  
Lars had a pile of leaflets in his desk and he was determined that today he would get what needed to be said across …Riddick and Sherlock couldn’t safely manage this pregnancy alone, they were going to need the practical help of the Omega Alliance. Riddick had to be convinced of that truth and Lars suspected it would prove equally hard to convince Sherlock to trust anyone he didn’t know …….

It wouldn't hurt to make some enquiries on their behalf anonymously as he would have done for any other patient ....Lars reached for the phone and dialled the free helpline number .  
" Good morning , how can I help you?"  
" Hello , I'm hoping you can help with some information on behalf of someone who needs to remain anonymous. I'm a Doctor. I work in a free, walk in Omega health clinic and one of my patients is an Elite Omega, who has fled an abusive bond in the company of a common Alpha he isn't bonded to... "  
" An Elite Omega? .... I'm sure we can help...let me just fetch someone who specialises in Elite legal matters such as bonds' for us....could you give me your first name please?"  
" Lars...."  
There was a silence broken only by jaunty music.....then a voice. " Good morning Lars. My names Gideon.... I understand you are looking for advice on behalf of an Elite Omega who has left his Alpha ... ."


	49. Hourglass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Mycroft finally get the break they have been hoping for in the search for Sherlock. They act fast but will it be fast enough....
> 
> Unaware that they could be in danger of discovery by CAM Riddick and Sherlock spend the day together in bed.....

The shrill ring tone of John’s mobile phone woke Saul. There was a thumping pain right behind his forehead and his tongue felt like used sandpaper. He'd drunk far to much last night. The Alpha groaned as he fumbled blindly for the mobile phone on top of the bedside locker on John’s side of the king-sized bed before realising it wasn’t there.  
With that damn ringing going right through his skull more sharply by the second he got out of bed naked to search through the other Alpha’s discarded clothing; which lay scattered together with Saul’s own clothes over the hotel room floor in a trail that led away from the bed to the spot he’d blown a standing John on, before John had returned the favour later with Saul stretched out on the bed. 

“John!” Saul yelled through to the shower. “Phone!”  
“What?” John yelled back, deafened by the power shower.  
The caller rang off then called back again straight away. Both the missed text and missed call symbols were illuminated. Saul stared at the screen as the call ended and began ringing again almost instantly, he didn’t recognise the caller ID….  
“John…phone. Must be urgent, whoever it is isn’t shutting up.”  
John turned inside the shower enclosure to face Saul, his fair eyebrows raised questioningly, stood naked with soapy water streaming down over his shoulders and chest and running in rivulets over his compact, muscular body down to his semi hard, thick cock…. Saul couldn’t help but look.  
The phone began ringing again as another call came through.  
John stepped out of the shower and stood dripping water. He ran a hand through his short, wet hair and gave his wet palm a cursory wipe dry on the bath sheet before holding out a hand out for the phone. It began to ring again as he slid his thumb across to unlock the screen he saw the first words of one of seven missed texts and even more missed calls from Gideon at the Reykjavik Alliance office … THINK FOUND YOUR E.OMEGA ……and felt his heart thump as he answered the call. 

Mycroft left his meeting with the Prime Minister as early as he could without giving offence, frustrated that the woman was a well-meaning idiot who seemed to believe running a country was much like managing a large household, and was adeptly avoiding all those who had waited for the chance to speak with him en-route to the car when his phone rang.  
“John?” He was surprised.  
“Yeah… I’m almost sure I have a recent lead on Sherlock. A Doctor rang an Alliance helpline in Reykjavik this morning and spoke a friend of mine…. seeking help for an Elite Omega who’d run from an abusive bond…the age fits…it has to be Sherlock he was talking about.” John could hear the tension in his own voice.  
“Lars Virtanen?” Mycroft pronounced the name concisely.  
“No idea of his surname but yeah same first name….” John felt sure it was the same man, going on gut instinct.  
Mycroft seemed to agree. “Alan Riddick handed in a prescription at an Alpha pharmacy eight days ago, in a town called Vyborg…. Lars Virtanen was the Doctor who wrote the script. Unbonded, Omega, works at a free clinic.”  
“Was Sherlock with him?”  
“Not on this occasion.”  
“That’s unusual, isn’t it? It was definitely Riddick?”  
“Indeed. Yes. Camera footage picked him up twice, entering and leaving the supermarket. There is no doubt. I identified him myself.”  
“Christ Mycroft. We have him if it was…. There can’t be that many Omega clinics, have you traced which one Lars works at….?”  
“One free clinic to be precise…. Sherlock isn’t listed as a patient. They may have used an alias, that possibility is still being checked. Where are you right now John…I'm heading to the airport now? Gregory mentioned Sweden?”  
“Visiting friends …yeah …. I can get down there today if I leave now…”  
“A military helicopter will be with you within half an hour John. I’ll have a hire car standing by when you reach Vyborg.”  
“I need everything you can give me on this Lars guy. Home and work address, car plates…anything less standard you have on him, who he lives with or has lived with, any family or friends who live nearby that could be sheltering Riddick or Sherlock. What connection Lars has with that bastard Riddick if any. Intel on the building he lives in…. floor plans on the clinic and his home … photo’s if you have them…the lot. “  
Twenty five minutes later and John was stood outside, his damp hair and skin chilled in the cold down draught from the helicopters rotary blades. Bending his head, he ran to the chopper and spoke hastily with the agent before beckoning Saul to join him.

 

Alan woke up late feeling good. It was lunchtime…. the bed was warm. He’d mouthed at Sherlock’s bond bite for the best part of an hour last night until they both were drowsy; they’d fallen asleep with his arms wrapped round the lad and better still Sherlock was still curled up against him.  
“Guess what?” Sherlock said.  
“You aren’t puking your guts up!” Alan grinned.  
“Nope…not once. I feel good…hungry even.” Sherlock sounded relieved.  
“That’s bloody brilliant. I’ll cook…you stay put, let me look after you.” Alan kissed the top of Sherlock’s head.  
Sherlock wriggled, pushing back into Alan’s embrace, until the Alpha was spooning him. Riddick felt the curved rise of Sherlock’s firm arse bump against his cock, which gave a very positive twitch of interest.  
“Or we could …stay in bed.” Sherlock said shyly.

First time the lad had asked for that! Riddick felt a surge of happiness. “Yeah….? You’d like that would you, sleepy head?” Alan teased gently but he could hear the breathless longing of desire in his own voice. The Alpha gently pressed closer so he could move his hips and feel the solid, heavy length of his semi-hard cock against the lean dancer’s muscle of the boy’s thighs. He lowered his head, let his warm breath ghost over the scarred tissue of the Omega’s bond bite and when he kissed it with a softly focused worship, Sherlock shivered. “Did Lars say it’s ok if we…?” Alan asked gently, knowing Sherlock would understand what he meant.  
Sherlock shook his head no, but didn’t move away.” He said not …that…. anything else is ok.”  
The lad never called ‘that’ what it was…. Alan liked that he was shy about it still. Shy about everything really.

“Just you come on here to me then so love… “ Riddick pulled his pillow lower down the bed and moved back just enough, keeping a hand on the boy’s hip as he coaxed Sherlock to roll over and slide backwards over the mattress until he was laid on his back in the warm spot Alan had just been laying in.  
” Trust me?” Alan asked tenderly and Sherlock nodded before he said yes.  
Riddick moved back over the top of him carefully, his strong body covering Sherlock, braced on his bent forearms either side of the Elite Omega’s head, leaving just enough weight on top of the boy to ground him. Easing the Omega’s thighs apart gently with his own muscular legs and using his ankles inside Sherlock’s own to spread the lad’s legs wider until he was settled in against the boy, bodies so close he could feel Sherlock’s lovely slim cock pressed between them both.  
Sherlock slid a hand up Alan’s bicep to his shoulder and stroked with his thumb and Alan trembled.  
“Ok? Not to heavy?” Alan made sure, nuzzling into Sherlock’s hairline, and breathing in the intense, succulent scent of the Elite Omega’s soft hair.  
“It’s nice. “Sherlock sounded breathless. “Just not… you can’t…inside.”  
“I know love. I won’t. I’ll not hurt you gorgeous lad. Never.“ Riddick lay still and kissed the boy’s succulent lips as gently as he could…the trust Sherlock showed him, still made his heart ache…before he stilled; gazing down into Sherlock’s stunning eyes and marvelling at them. “Christ lad… all that silver in your eyes; just like stars.” Sherlock shook his head and closed his eyes; suddenly overcome and shy. Alan pressed a kiss over one closed eyelid and felt the boy’s dense eyelashes tickle his lips. He pressed his lips against Sherlock’s high cheek bone right above where the blush was staining the lad’s skin a delicate perfect pink. “Pretty mouth … you know it drives me mad? Makes me want to kiss you all day.”  
Sherlock opened his eyes and stared quietly up at him and the boy’s fragile, vulnerable beauty made Alan lose his words. ” You don’t believe it do you? You don’t see how bloody beautiful you are.” The Alpha’s voice was emotional.  
“Alan …” Sherlock’s voice was hushed, his inky eyes with their clustered sliver irises gazing deep into Riddick as though he could see the man’s soul. One slim hand slid to the strong nape of Riddick’s neck and pulled gently.

Riddick lowered his head and let his breath warm the boy’s pale pink lips, the sweet-scented taste of the Omega’s mouth all he could think of. He kept his mouth strong and supple as he kissed the boy and only licked to deepen the kiss when Sherlock’s open mouthed gasp let him in. When, finally, he pulled back Sherlock opened his eyes and Alan groaned to find they were smudged and overwhelmed. “Again….” was all Sherlock said and lifted his head to find what he wanted for himself.

“That’s my lad. That’s my beautiful, beautiful lad.” Alan pressed the reverent words in among his kisses as Sherlock slid his other arm round Riddick’s firm body. Alan didn’t stand a hope of hiding his low growl, it rumbled up through his chest…. the thick bulge of his own heavy, uncut cock pressed teasingly in alongside Sherlock’s slender shaft and the Alpha let his hips move against the Elite Omega’s body in a slow dirty grind, letting the boy feel it as cock slid slowly over cock.  
Sherlock pulled his ankles free from around Alan’s spreading legs and raised both knees instead… closing them round Alan’s back, pulling the Alpha closer.

The boy was breathing faster already, flustered, pink and beautiful, his hand catching hard at the back of Riddick’s neck as Alan took over the kiss and licked those impossible, ripe lips open again. “That feel good…?” Alan murmured; the slim, pretty shape of the boy’s smaller, straight cock felt incredible under his own as he rubbed his shaft against it, Sherlock’s balls were just under his own heavy Alpha sac and Alan couldn’t control any of the ragged aroused growls that were reverberating through his body.  
Sherlock’s leg slid down and curved around, over the back of Alan’s thigh. “Alan…” The boy panted out the name and Riddick shook as Sherlock stroked his face…. “Please...Alan please. More.” Sherlock whimpered the last word…a needy, submissive little sound that made Riddick lower his head and lay it against the boy’s cheek fighting down the urge to bite and claim, talking himself down as he always did when it came to this painful need…. don’t hurt him Alan, don’t you ever hurt him!  
Alan’s panted laugh was shaky with desperation. Breathless behind each growl as he panted, “More? Yeah? … Christ love… I’m with you on that!” The desire to bite down and claim was so strong his jaw was clenching and his fangs ached…too close to fucking Sherlock; in this on top dominant position....too close to that pulsing, scent filled gland not to want to break it with his teeth.  
Forcing himself back took single minded determination….

” Lay still lovely, let me get my mouth round you.” Riddick kissed his way down Sherlock’s lean body, sucking at the skin over the boy’s lowest rib before he even touched tongue to cock. Alan loved Sherlock’s shocked gasp every time he did it, the way the Omega’s throat flushed pink as he licked the boy’s slim cock and sucked the pretty head of it into his heated mouth. Within seconds Sherlock was reaching for him, long fingers twisting through the short choppy layers of Riddick’s dark hair as the Alpha kept his suck wet and firm, his hands caressing Sherlock’s inner thighs.  
Riddick had heard the jeering talk from Magnussen and his friend’s, he knew they all claimed the giving of this act demeaned an Elite Alpha …but he’d have bet a year’s pay that they all did it, he knew Magnussen had. He’d seen the lad lay stiff and afraid under Magnussen’s hard, demanding mouth …. it gave him pleasure to know that wasn’t how it was now with him…. 

Sherlock was moaning, tormented by the strength of his urge to thrust for more…. looking away in quiet panic as he fought down the desperate need to thrust his cock into the Alpha’s hot wet, sucking mouth. Twisting bare and vulnerable on the bed, torn between begging Alan to stop, and begging him to let him come. Chanting Alan’s name on every shaken exhalation. Knowing …. he couldn’t/ shouldn’t thrust into an Alpha’s mouth …don’t … be submissive…. don’t …don’t … Oh God what was Alan doing with his tongue there!

The Alpha licked Sherlock’s taut perineum, took a wet suck at the head of Sherlock’s cut cock and sunk his mouth slowly back down and Sherlock broke, whining and grabbing at the bedhead behind his head as he locked his thighs hard round Alan to keep himself from moving, his whole mind lost to the wet, driving heat of Riddick’s mouth…. pulling at Alan with his legs locked high round the Alpha’s strong, muscled ribs, lifting his hips up off the bed and pulling his body higher until his spine was curved and his slim cock deep to the Alpha’s throat, the pressure built and built until Sherlock was begging, incoherent words and sounds.  
“Come on love, fill my mouth, that’s my boy!” Riddick lifted his head to look for a second , his voice ragged and aroused, before sucking hungrily with a hot hard pressure and Sherlock heard himself cry out, agonised with shameful need, before he spilled, hot and spurting into Alan’s mouth and over his tongue ….everything went dark as he did.

Alan was on top of him now. Sherlock’s limp, panting body pushed over onto his side so Riddick could work his thick cock between Sherlock’s leanly muscled thighs with their soft, satin skin and mouth passionately at the scarred weeping tissue of the Elite Omega’s bite. It was Riddick’s turn to groan and plead for what he needed but Sherlock was lost to the sense of what any of Alan’s growled, gasping possessive words meant, as Riddick abruptly stilled and the first of several thick, heavy spurts from his hard cock, splattered wet between Sherlock’s trembling thighs.  
Alan gave a loud shout, forced his mouth away from the pale skin of the Elite Omega’s long neck and sank his fangs down into the pillow instead of breaking open Sherlock’s skin….

 

John stared out of the window down at the towns snow filled streets, seen from above it looked like an island secured to the mainland by two long road bridges. It was beginning to get dark and the snow was white and luminous, the sky stretched away to a horizon shadowed with low grey cloud.  
“Ever been here before John? “Saul’s voice crackled through John’s earpiece as the pilot looked to land.  
“Never. You?” John answered, trying to keep the tension from his voice. Sherlock was here….  
“Once. Interesting history, the town’s changed hands several times, used to be Finnish before Russia annexed it when borders changed after World War two. Lenin stayed here. That’s the castle below us with the green roof.” Like most journalists, Saul’s general knowledge was expansive and political history fascinated him. He gave John a flashing smile.  
The very air itself was freezing as John and Saul ducked low to avoid decapitation and ran for the black car with its soviet plates that was parked waiting for them.  
John had barely fastened his seat belt before the driver in the front seat turned and a large sealed envelope landed on his lap. “Mr Holmes has arranged a hotel room for you on the waterfront…and for your guest...should an overnight stay be necessary. All expenses paid.”  
John saw the curiosity in the Alpha agent’s eyes as they glanced between himself and Saul… the usual bloody prejudice against Alpha’s who liked Alpha’s sexually just hidden enough to stay polite.  
Fuck it! John opened the envelope and started reading……

Alan woke up first…. the room was darker, it had to be late afternoon. Sherlock was fast asleep, his long eyelashes darkly fringing the ivory skin under his eyes. The wet warm flannel Alan had used to clean them both up was still on the floor next to the bed where a sleepy Alan had dropped it.  
Without waking the Elite Omega Alan took a long piss and hit the shower, scrubbing his body with brisk, efficient hands even though he’d rather have kept the lad’s scent all over him. That had been …wow he had no words… God knows what it would be like when the lad was in a heat when it was that good now.  
Time for food…the boy had eaten nothing all day and that couldn’t be good for any baby, if there still was one. They’d find out today for sure and Lars had told him a bunch of times to make sure Sherlock ate. …Time to get up and do just that.  
Sherlock was sleeping , sprawled out across the bed, loose limbed, with his head on Alan's pillow. Riddick sat down on the edge of the mattress, leant over and lazily smacked a hand on the taut rise of Sherlock’s sexy arse without thinking…. and Sherlock shot back across the bed instantly startled and bloody terrified, staring at him wildly with fearful wide eyes……and Alan could have kicked himself for making such a fundamental mistake.


	50. Hope and Despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Saul stake out the free clinic....
> 
> Sherlock and Riddick talk about the past.  
> A painful secret is shared for the first time..........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger... This chapter deals with past abuse. Nothing graphic but its there.....
> 
>  
> 
> Blue ....the track is Fragment 1 from Fantasy in E flat Major by Dagny Bakken.

The Omega free clinic Lars Virtanen worked in turned out to be housed in a well weathered portacabin on the outer edge of town. There was a broken down white van parked right outside behind two traffic cones so Saul had pulled up across the road.  
John looked at the galvanised metal grills covering every window and the heavily reinforced door with a security camera keeping it under constant surveillance without comment. The five metal steps and disability ramp leading up to its door were rusty and the side of the building John could see from the passenger seat was covered in graffiti, most of which was abusive and included a graphic drawing of an Alpha cock and balls, complete with an eye-popping knot and spraying ejaculate. The words underneath were obscenely threatening….

“Bit Berlin bunker for a health clinic, isn’t it?” Saul gave a low whistle.  
John nodded, busy watching Omega come and go through the clinic doors. " A lot of these places look the same...some great people working in shit conditions because they struggle to find funding. It's a disgrace."  
It had been hard to imagine Riddick bringing Sherlock here yet now John saw how the clinic was situated it felt more probable. Set at the back of a large lot with its own carpark and only overlooked by the one camera… it was secure , the large sign saying NO ALPHA ADMITTED told John that all the staff here would be Omega or Beta and instinctively more likely to be sympathetic to an Omega running from his bond mate.…if John had been forced to pick a surgery to bring an unwell Elite Omega into, without risking discovery, then this one would have been his choice too…  
Riddick took few chances. If Lars prescription hadn’t been handed into an Alpha pharmacy it may have gone undiscovered that the Elite Omega had ever been here. The very fact that Sherlock may have been so unwell that Riddick had felt they had no choice but to take that risk worried John…. whatever was wrong with Sherlock it must have needed a Doctor’s care and John’s mind was running to internal injuries and rape. Any Alpha around an Omega just before or during heat was prone to be unpredictable, more physically protective, and dominant … put any unbonded Alpha like that around an Elite Omega in heat and the very real possibility that Riddick had already caused Sherlock harm in a violently possessive sexual assault had John’s hand clenching into a fist deep in his pocket where Saul wouldn't see his response.

 

Alan stole a worried look at Sherlock as he ate. The boy was picking at his food, looking miserable. “Sorry lad.” Riddick couldn’t shake his guilt.  
All it had taken was a second of thoughtlessness to put the Omega right back into the bad headspace of his horrific past. The appalled fear on Sherlock’s terrified face as he’d cowered back was engraved into Riddick’s memory. He’d seen the boy wake up that same way too many times when Magnussen was in his bed not to know who it was that Sherlock had woken up thinking was there.

“It’s ok. Stop worrying. It gives me a headache.” Sherlock pushed the plate away from him with quiet determination.  
“You haven’t eaten much for a lad who said he was starving hungry.”  
“Not anymore.” Sherlock said flatly.  
“Yeah I see that, but …” Alan was about to say again that Lars had said Sherlock needed to try and gain some weight before the baby began taking what it needed from his body ; when Sherlock sighed dramatically.  
“ Not again .We don’t even know there still is a baby Alan.” Sherlock pushed his glass of water away impatiently.  
“Yeah, and we don’t know there’s not. “ Riddick tried to stick with the facts and steer clear of an emotional response that Sherlock would only reject as wishful thinking.  
“You’re a hopeless optimist.” Sherlock didn’t sound as though he was.  
“Nothing wrong with that. If I wasn’t then we wouldn’t be here and this morning wouldn’t have happened.“ Alan defended himself with a cheeky grin to soften his words. He was surprised when Sherlock looked away sadly instead of smiling back. “Talk to me lad?”  
“It’s just if I’m …not. I know you think I still am, even when you don’t say it… but if I’m not…I just don’t want you to be disappointed ….” Sherlock looked uncertainly up at Alan.

Alan could never work out how the boy knew things, he just always did, with unerring accuracy. He chose his words carefully….” You saying you think you aren’t anymore?”  
Sherlock was watching his reaction closely. “No…. I’m not saying …that ...I just don’t think you should be too hopeful…”  
“Can’t help that lad , it’s in my nature. “

Alan swallowed hard, when he spoke again his voice was gruff. . “A little you …would be nice, wouldn’t it? If it happened that way.”  
Sherlock looked stunned. Alan didn’t think he’d ever seen the lad look so amazed. “You hope it’s an Omega?” Sherlock said incredulously.  
" Yeah I ....was." Riddick answered awkwardly. Was Sherlock trying to tell him he thought he'd lost the baby?

The boy’s intense gaze flickered down to Alan’s hands and back up. “Pressure on your right thumb more than any other digit, and you needed to clear your throat twice before you could answer… truthful and sentimental. You mean it. You’d really want an Omega child more than an Alpha?”  
“Pressure on my what…? “Riddick looked down at his thumb, aware all of a sudden that he was pressing it harder against his glass than any other finger. “Bloody heck! How'd you see all that in one look?”  
“Never mind that…it’s just deductions. Pointless. Why? Why would you want an Omega child more than an Alpha like you?” Sherlock sounded confused.

Alan moved his hand from the glass and shrugged. “I grew up in a house full of Alpha, went to school with them, was in the Army with them…worked with them. Hell, I am one….. “  
Sherlock still had that ‘explain’ look on his face.  
Right… more talking needed. “I always …liked Omega… more. I’m not the easiest man to warm up too. I’ve a temper on me.” Sherlock made a dismissive sound of disagreement and muttered “ludicrous” under his breath and Alan smiled. “I do lad. God knows I’ve lost it enough times recently. I was better with Billy…I’m better with you. Less angry . Stands to reason I’d be a better dad to an Omega...” There he’d said it. Badly, fuck only knows, but it was out there in some mangled fashion.  
Sherlock was quiet. Processing the facts and the meaning behind them. “You aren’t your stepfather. Just because you grew up with that violence doesn’t meant that’s how you’d be “

The Omega stood up and began scraping the plates into the compost bin, concentrating very hard on the task. “My parents…. didn’t want an Omega. They would never say it but I could tell, they never wanted me. When I was younger I thought maybe it was because I wasn’t quiet enough, or still enough at table or even because I was skinny …. but it wasn’t a single thing I did or didn’t do, it was me …all of me that was Omega… that was the problem.”  
Alan had to force himself not to say anything, his teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached.  
“Every time I asked Mycroft he’d say I was a Holmes and it just wasn’t done for parents to show emotions.”

Sherlock started washing up, scrubbing hard at the plates with so much washing up liquid Alan could see the foamy suds covering his hands as high as his wrists. “I never told Mycroft.” He sounded matter of fact as though Alan already knew what he meant.  
“What didn’t you tell him? What went on?” Alan’s question hung in the air. He fought the urge to turn the boy around so he could see his face.

“That Father called me freak. Instead of my name.”  
Sherlock placed the wet plates and cutlery next to the sink with extreme care, placing everything so nothing touched the thing next to it. Alan saw how tense he was, his thin shoulders hunched. " He showed me porn ... things I’d have to do after I presented…. for an Alpha…. Lessons.”  
A kid under 14! Alan’s thigh was shaking. He moved it but the shaking continued. “Who? Who showed you that? Did he hurt you...did he have his hands on you?” Fuck that dirty Elite bastard Siger Holmes!

Sherlock was staring at the wet plates, with a tea towel in hand; as though he’d forgotten what to do with them next… “It doesn’t matter…it’s not even the point. The pregnancy…I think it’s Omega Alan. Sick but it went away in a few days …. that’s how I was before. If you want an Omega that’s good…It’s…. good...for the baby…. if you think you'd love it.” He sounded so bleak. As though he already accepted little in life could work out as he wanted.  
Riddick took the tea towel out of Sherlock’s pale fingers, turned Sherlock around carefully, put both arms round the boy and held him silently……….


	51. On the Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnussen's hired thugs close in....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ukrainian... Na koliny suka means on your knees whore.
> 
> The track is Common Faults by Silent Comedy.
> 
> The fake name that amuses Mycroft is that of a Swedish artist...Karl Larsson.

John loathed spending hours sat inside a car but it was a necessary part of what he did at times. A natural athlete who hated sitting still when he could be burning off energy, he had learned the hard way the steady patience it needed to stay stationary for hours in the Army; when a foxhole under heavy fire in Helmand Province, surrounded by ‘neighbours ‘ trying to send him home in fragmented bloody pieces had been ‘home.’  
For Saul, surveillance had also been part of his life for years, his work as an investigative journalist had seen him spend whole weeks waiting for a source to appear or for a crime lord to finally leave his secure mansion.  
Together they made a good surveillance team as John had suspected they would. Saul had his own supply of anecdotes to pass the time and intelligent or funny comments to make on all John’s stories. It passed the time and John was thankful for the company yet his eyes never left the clinic door, checking out everyone who left and the inhabitants of every car that picked up an Omega following their appointment.

 

John didn’t want to admit it but he felt increasingly uneasy. The van parked outside the clinic hadn’t moved but neither should it have been there in the first place. “Who goes to the trouble of pushing a broken-down van all the way into the back of a car park when you could just push it over to the kerb? “he asked rhetorically.  
“Maybe what’s in the back is valuable?” Saul checked the van out without moving his head to look. “You think it’s occupied?” Saul was quick to follow John’s thought.  
“Makes sense…look where its parked up, side windows so it’s giving a perfect view of the door, close enough for a snatch and grab if Sherlock shows up….” John saw how it could play out in his mind. “Hell, the front wheels already face the street for a quick getaway.”  
Saul stared out of the tinted window his side of the car and knew John was right. “When you put it like that….”

John pulled his phone from his pocket. “Mycroft…can you pull camera footage. Anything that covers the clinic carpark?”  
“And a pleasure to speak to you too Dr Watson…. Covering what time frame?” Mycroft liked to be precise, John heard him speaking to someone else, his cultured accent sharp and clear.  
“Since before we got here a few hours ago, VW van, something about it’s not sitting right with me.” John reeled off the plates. Hopefully it wasn’t just a vanload of dodgy DVD’s that were setting off John’s sixth sense that something was happening right under his nose…  
“Ahh yes. The vehicle was hired by Karl Larson, it’s an alias of course…” John could practically hear Mycroft rolling his eyes. “However, I can identify one of the men, the camera caught him walking away…. an ex- army freelancer by the name of Sebastian Moran.” Mycroft spoke with a measured contempt. “The van reversed into its current parking space two days ago, John, where it has remained, before that it was across the street close to where you have parked today. The sunshade in the front window is textbook…a simple way of ensuring nobody can see inside the back. In short, the vehicle is almost certainly being used for surveillance….… Not broken down… perfectly roadworthy. “  
“Not for much longer it won’t be…” John said, with a gleeful vengeance to his voice as he outlaid a plan that made even Mycroft smile….

A luminous orange and white tow truck arrived within the hour and screwed large NO OVERNIGHT PARKING. ALL VEHICLES WILL BE REMOVED signs to the walls right ahead of the van and behind it, before quickly securing the ‘abandoned ‘vehicle.  
The three men inside stayed still and quiet as the back axle of the vehicle was hoisted up into the air and they began to move backwards.

“Shit…nobody move. We’re being towed.” Moran said with an amused grin. “Right gentleman no need to draw attention to ourselves,” he kept his voice low as he scanned his mobile phone and entered the name on the side of the tow truck. “This company has a yard a ten-minute drive away, let’s just go along for the ride and get straight back here once they drop the van. The boss will have a new vehicle waiting for us. Four hours until the clinic shuts, Riddick won’t bring him in before dark, I know the man, he’s a canny bastard… we have plenty of time to get back here before he does.”  
The tow truck driver turned out onto the main road slowly and the men inside the back of the van heard a loud metallic clang and felt a sudden jolt and a sharp shift in angle that was so abrupt it almost sent them all sprawling.

“What the fuck was that?” One of the three cursed as his elbow hit sharp metal painfully.  
“Stay down, shut the fuck up.” Moran hissed.  
“Was that a speed bump?”  
There was a rattling underneath the vehicle followed immediately by the loud echoing slam of metal on metal, followed by a series of clanging sounds and the inside of the van was abruptly plunged into total darkness.  
“Shit!” Seb’s phone lit up as a new text arrived, filling his screen with capital letters before he’d even opened it as control of his phone was lost …. ENJOY THE RIDE. JOHN WATSON  
Moran was on his feet in seconds, torch in hand, trying to open the van door as the truck swayed and cornered. Bracing with his feet he slammed a broad shoulder to the back door of the van trying to force it wide open but by then it was too late …. they were locked inside the back of a metal sided truck and being driven away to God knows where….

 

It was dark…. the last Omega patient had left an hour ago. It was time to go home.  
Ingrid had bleached the toilet, hoovered the waiting room floor, tidied the magazines, restocked the leaflets and was finishing up some last-minute printing, when that was done she’d call for a taxi home. With a Doctor missing everyone had taken on extra work today.  
A car beeped its horn outside. “Night Ingrid. Don’t stay too late. “ Jonah the practice nurse called through to the staff kitchen and Ingrid heard the door slam behind him.

“Right…that’s it for tonight. Waste of time. Lars wasn’t even here.” John’s frustration showed in his voice.  
Saul stretched as best he could in the cramped car. It had been a long day, nothing a slow hot shower and an even slower, hotter blow job wouldn’t make a whole lot better though. He was about to suggest both to John when a silver car pulled up next to their car.  
“You head back to the hotel Saul …I’m just going to scope out the block Lars lives in, work out if it’s a two-team job tomorrow. I won’t be long.” John already had the car door open.  
“Well fuck!” Saul groaned.  
“Later…” John said with the dark edged smile that always made Saul want him. 

Saul loved John but he also knew him damn well by this stage…half an hour would stretch to an hour or even an hour and a half every time.  
It would be well worth the wait…John had a lot of pent up energy to burn through.  
Saul’s stomach growled alarmingly as an Alpha walked past with a bag of take out from the busy 50’s style diner just down the street. That was it, temptation won …within minutes Saul was strolling down the road towards that mouth-watering fried onion smell.

Time to lock up.  
The night was dark, heavy clouds hid the moon and the security light above the clinic door wasn’t working… again… as Ingrid fingered through the heavy bunch of twelve keys locating the right one by touch before fitting it into the lock.  
The black and pink snow hat and personal music player she was wearing made her deaf to the tell-tale crunching sounds of feet on frozen crusted snow. She heard nothing before a thickly gloved hand dropped over her mouth and nose, yanking her head right back and pulling her curves back into the hard, trained body behind her as he forced her forward, back inside the empty clinic she couldn’t even scream. The lack of air already making her vision fill with dark spots of ominous shadow.  
”Na koliny suka.” A harshly accented Alpha voice snarled into her ear…….

When Saul ducked back inside the hired car, twenty minutes later, his mouth was watering, the smell of sweetly fried onions, cheese burger and salty, crisp fries, so good he’d had to sneak a few fries out the bag on his way back to the car. He was going to enjoy this meal.  
Shame John didn’t know what he was missing…. Saul took a quick snap of himself with seven fries between his grinning lips and sent it to John………...

 

Lars Virtanen lived in a modern white block of flats with its own carpark, edged by fir trees. As John pulled into an empty car parking space his phone buzzed and John grinned to see the crazy photo Saul had sent him. Greedy git …. he sent back.  
The Omega Doctor was home…his car easy to identify, even before John checked the license plates. Maybe Riddick and Sherlock were in there as well. It was possible… Lars hadn’t worked today and John hated to think that a whole day had been wasted staking out the clinic when Lars was in there and may know exactly where Sherlock was.  
Only one way to find out.  
His mind made up…John stuck the SIG down the back of his jeans and got out of the car, walking briskly across the snowy car park.  
Lars Virtanen’s name was listed next to its buzzer in the row of front door intercom bells and John pressed it and waited. Twice.  
Mere minutes after John had pressed the intercom, a tall, heavily muscular bald headed man dressed in jeans and a black jacket came down the stairs at speed and opened the locked front door, pushing past John with his head down.  
John; never one to let a good chance pass by, caught the door handle before it could close and slipped unobtrusively inside…. heading upstairs.  
As soon as John opened the heavy wood and glass fire door he knew something was wrong…the pale wood front door to Lars flat swung open and unlocked.…

Inside the flat was warm and brightly lit.  
There was a smashed plate on the floor in the kitchen, the remains of a tofu stir fry spilt messily over the laminate…., the tv was turned up loudly, a grey photo frame lay broken on the floor near the coffee table and on the floor, in the hallway that led to the bedroom…Lars Virtanen lay slumped and boneless, his face and lips a livid oxygen less, bluish grey ……  
John acted fast…. 

 

John was doing the best he could to save Lar’s life, he'd assessed the airway and improvised a neck brace. Right now, John’s CPR was the only thing keeping the oxygenated blood moving throughout Lars body but the brutal strangulation had damaged and swollen the tissues in the man’s throat and John knew he needed a cricothyroidotomy, if he’d had his kit he’d already have done one…  
As the paramedic team arrived John stood aside to let them do their work, unable to pass on the information he normally would because of his limited knowledge of Finnish or Russian. There was a nasal tube for oxygen in place now, the shock paddles were used twice and a stimulant injected before Lars heart found its beat again…John waited until he was sure that the guy had a chance before he faded back out the door, knowing he had to move fast to get out of there before the Police arrived.

A Police car was just pulling into the carpark, its blue light flashing as John called Mycroft.  
“John?” The concerned hope in Sherlock’s brother’s voice was undisguised.  
“Lars Virtanen…attacked in his home. He’d been strangled.” John heard the shock in his own voice as he spoke.  
“Is he dead John?” Mycroft was surprisingly blunt.  
“Almost…another few minutes. I think I disturbed whoever did this.” John had seen the ferocity of the attack, it was meant to kill. “The police are there, medics have him, it was touch and go…he’ll need protection Mycroft. He could have seen his attacker’s face, if we link it to Magnussen....” He didn't need to say more.  
“Of course, it’s being dealt with John. He’ll be under armed guard within minutes.” The Elite Alpha sounded competent and assured, as though nothing he’d been asked was a problem in any way.  
“I’m on CCTV going into the flat he lives in and leaving, the paramedics saw my face, can you deal with that?” John crossed the road and walked away, keeping his pace unhurried and his agitated voice low, so he didn’t draw any eyes.  
“John.... was there no sign of Sherlock or Alan Riddick?” There was a note to Mycroft’s tone that revealed his worry.  
“Nothing I saw but I wasn’t there long. You’ll need to have the place searched once the police had it taped off. “John assumed that wasn’t a problem either since nothing seemed to be….whatever Mycroft’s job really was, it clearly wasn’t the low ranking position he claimed. MI5 was John’s guess.  
“Yes of course. “Mycroft said thoughtfully. “Virtanen is stable and enroute to the ER. If he regains consciousness I’ll try to speak with him, find out what …if anything… he knows.” The call disconnected abruptly.  
“Arrogant Elite asshole.” John swore.

Saul was on his last bite of burger and feeling greasily satiated, when a green Land Rover drove into the empty carpark in front of the closed clinic and parked in the far corner of the empty car park, keeping to the darkest shadows that ran beneath the high wall.  
Saul reached for the binoculars.  
The Alpha who got out the car first, was tall and muscular with short dark, hair. Saul couldn’t get a clear look at the man’s face as he took a good look around him before going around the front of the car and standing waiting, car keys jiggling in one broad hand. It surely had to be Alan Riddick going from height and powerful build alone …. Saul found himself holding his breath, even though he knew he couldn't be seen.  
The youth who got out the car next was slim and leggy, Saul checked the photo John had taped to the dash and followed his every move closely with the binoculars. It was hard to see with the fur trimmed hood of his parka but as the boy turned to face the Alpha, Saul saw just enough of his face to identify him. The heavy dark, silken curls were gone; the boy’s hair was short and messy but the incredible bone structure of his face was unmistakeable, it was the Elite Omega John had come here to find.  
” Fuck… ” Saul swore and reached for his phone to call John.  
Riddick and Sherlock walked to the clinic door, hesitated…and vanished inside.

“ Saul…” John had barely said the others man’s name when Saul cut across him.  
“John…they’re here.” There was tension in Saul’s voice.  
“FUCK!” John was ten/fifteen minutes away, he started to run. “Don’t let them leave …do you hear me Saul? Whatever it takes … fucking keep them there…. Sherlock’s in danger!”


	52. Life and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Alan walk into a trap.  
> The fight to survive takes a brutal toll.
> 
> More than one life is at risk....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update contains the death of an OC ...not one of the main ones but still ....
> 
> It's an extremely violent , physically threatening update and I feel like I should warn for that....things get bloody and very hands on.  
> Riddick has little choice but to react as he does...its visceral.... but his own life and Sherlock's are at risk....
> 
> Sherlock may seem cold in his reaction afterwards in the forest... but he is in shock...

Sherlock winced as Alan tried and failed to hit the high note at the same time as the Freddie Mercury track he was singing along with. “You sound like a cat that’s been trodden on.”  
“That good huh?” Alan gave him a devil may care grin. He knew he sounded bloody awful sometimes but making all kinds of a fool out of himself was worth it just for one of Sherlock’s rare shy smiles.  
If it took the Omega’s mind off the reason they were here to see Lars then that was even better.

He turned the car into the road the free clinic was on and saw Sherlock turn his head away to stare silently out of the window. “Alright lad?” Just bloody great Alan, real intelligent question, he clearly isn’t ‘alright’!

“Are you…?” Sherlock’s voice was muted as Alan pulled into the clinic carpark.” If I’m …not …pregnant?”

Riddick parked over by the wall in the dark shadows that ran under the high, razor wire topped wall of the warehouse that was next door to the clinic carpark.  
Alan noticed the boy didn’t bother to ask him the question the other way around. He wasn’t surprised Sherlock had figured out he’d would like it if the Elite Omega was carrying his child. It wasn’t hard. “I want you… You know that. If there’s a baby that’d be…alright too, good even…but either way…I want you lad.”  
Sherlock hadn’t looked towards him once, still staring out the car window at the clinic. “If it’s …not…we can try again…I mean maybe not for a while …but …. we can eventually… if that’s…” Sherlock fell quiet and shrugged, though if he’d run out of words or hope, Riddick wasn’t sure.  
Alan reached for the lad's hand. “Never mind that…long as you’re okay.” Odds meant it would be this baby, this time or it could be never…he knew it but Sherlock didn’t. Riddick could hear the taint of guilt hidden in his own voice...if they tried again he couldn’t be sure he could make it happen.

The carpark was empty of any other cars as Alan locked the car door on the driver’s side and stood waiting for Sherlock to join him. A cold Northerly wind stirred Riddick’s hair as he checked out the carpark, making certain it was safe. It was empty and still.

Sherlock looked resigned, a flat defeated acceptance at what had to happen now, in his eyes that made Alan’s heart ache. He’d seen that look before on the Elite Omega’s face…faced with Hoi and that sadistic bastard’s examinations. The look that said the boy wanted to refuse and make a fuss but had learned the hard way there was no point.  
If the Omega was pregnant …it’d mean a lot more of this … Doctor’s, examinations, internals, all the same stuff Alan knew Sherlock hated and feared in equal measure. He’d struggle with that , Alan knew and that was only the start of it.  
A pregnancy would be trouble, a baby more so. It’d change everything. They hadn’t talked about what would happen yet…if Sherlock was carrying Alan’s child then breaking his Elite bond was important and had a deadline to it. Alan couldn’t see Mycroft Holmes agreeing to help if he knew that Sherlock was pregnant and as soon as the Elite Omega was free from his bond, that a common Alpha like Alan would have a claim on him. In fact it’d be a cold day in Hell before Alan could see the lad’s posh brother allowing him near Sherlock.

Alan leant a thumb on the intercom outside the clinic door.  
Sherlock was stood close to the glass, he cupped his eyes with a hand so he could see clearly and stared inside. “Something’s not right. Her handbag’s there but look at the desk…nothing’s in its right place…. some of the pens are upside down. She puts the pen holder on the left, leaflets on the right and the calendar in the middle, every time we’ve been here the same…it’s all put back wrongly.”  
“Don’t say anything, stay behind me.” Alan’s hand moved to his gun as the buzzer sounded to show the door was open now….

The main room was dark and silent… bright light came from round spotlights above the reception desk and from the open doors behind the desk and across the room. Alan stepped over the lead from the Hoover that was trailing over the floor carefully, his eyes scanning everything, heart racing, adrenaline pumping. As he knocked the first door open and aimed his gun in, he saw paper spilled across the floor from the copier that was still on….  
Nobody there….  
Shit…that left the long corridor and that bastard was narrow and full of doors.

Alan used his foot to kick the door wider, his eyes trained on the doors anyone could be behind, watching, waiting… poised and ready for the kill shot.  
The lad behind him saw the girl’s body to the side first …. Alan couldn’t have stopped what happened next.... Sherlock took a step to her and crouched and a man stepped from the shadows of the door left ajar behind her to have a knife at the boy’s throat before Riddick could tell him NO!….  
Alan froze, mind racing for options… even as a sick dread filled his throat… unable to look away, just staring speechlessly at the pale skin of Sherlock’s pulled back throat and the gloved knife wielding hand pushed hard under the Omega’s chin.  
“I’ll slit him ear to ear. Put the gun on floor, kick to me. “ There was a fast movement as something was thrown and a thick plastic garden tie landed at Alan’s feet. “Wrists… pull tight with your teeth. One move … the Omega dies.” The dark eyes watching him were cold and deadly.  
O God Sherlock! There was no clear head shot at the bastard who had him…. none.

Alan dropped the gun.  
“Kick it away …or I hurt him.” He moved the blade and Sherlock made a sudden sound of pain.  
“Alright…” Alan booted the gun away towards the man and held his palms up to show he was unarmed as he crouched to pick the tie up, slipping both strong wrists through and pulling the tie tight before holding his bound hands out for inspection. ”It’s done. Don’t hurt the boy.”  
“Keep your hands where I can see . Up.”  
Alan didn’t move. The knife came away from Sherlock’s throat and Riddick saw a thin red line of blood before the man grabbed the boy hard and forced him closer to Alan, stopping only when he could see Alan’s hands were bound so tightly the flesh was already swelling around the thick plastic tie.

“Kneel down little boy.” The words came with a push that made Sherlock obey. “Don’t move.”  
“Don’t hurt him.” Alan said it again.  
“No?” The man said with a cruel shove of Sherlock’s head into the wall. Alan heard the thud but Sherlock made no sound. “You make me a rich man, you and the Omega whore.”  
“My brother will pay more.” Sherlock said it fast. “He has money.”  
“Ha I don’t think not, little whore. Your Alpha pay to fill your arse…pay twice to make your lover beg and die.” The man spoke with contempt.  
Sherlock’s huge, terrified eyes were fixed on Alan.

“Hands still.” The Ukrainian pulled a second plastic tie out and stepped forward, catching Alan by his bound wrists as he went to slip the new tie over the one already in place. Alan stared him right into his eyes, all his hatred showing and the man sneered and laughed ...and in that one second Alan SMASHED down his head into the other Alpha’s face as hard as he could crack it. There was an agonised shout but Alan didn’t pause, hammering into the man with blow after blow, using his height, his weight, his knees into gut, boots stamping down the shin bone, elbows jabbing into throat and chest, skull into face, bound fists punching…whatever it took to get that man down on the ground where Riddick could smash him into the floor.

There was blood everywhere. Alan couldn’t see, it was flooding his throat, salty and sickening, it was choking his nose and filling his mouth so he spat it out from between his clenched teeth. He was drowning in hot, sticky stinking blood with every ragged, rasping gasp, blinded by it streaming from the gashes in his scalp and still he kept slamming his joined fists and his head down into the other man’s pulped face.  
“Stop…Alan …stop!”  
He had the other Alpha pinned now, he’d absorbed every last brutal blow and fight in the body beneath him as though he felt nothing; his hands still tied as he choked the man with one broad forearm, forcing all the strength he had down, to cut off his air. Die you bastard. Fucking die!

“Alan STOP!” Sherlock was yelling at him…no… screaming at him… knelt on the floor right by him scarlet blood splattering his clothes, hands shaking with fear as he held the gun out….and Alan reached for it, took it, pushed it in under the man’s chin and blew the back of his head off without a seconds pause…..

“Up! Up! Move! C’mon!” Alan pulled Sherlock up, his fingers pinching the lads clothing. “Move!” The tied hands he swiped over his eyes came away wet and sticky with blood. He could barely see. They had to get out of here. "Sherlock _move _!"__  
“Ingrid…?”  
Alan pushed the Omega past her. Her fixed eyes stared at nothing. “Dead.” The lad tried to stare down at her and Riddick forced him along, fingers gripping his arm as best they could. “MOVE! FUCK IT... MOVE!”  
In the empty staff kitchen Alan pulled open drawer after drawer until he found cutlery. Shoving the knife towards Sherlock …”Cut the ties. I can’t drive.”  
They were so tight, embedded in bloody skin that Sherlock sliced Riddick’s hand working the blade in between and up but Alan didn’t notice…the pain in his face was crippling, the bleeding so heavy he could barely see. “My eyes …I can’t fucking see. “  
Sherlock pulled at another drawer and pulled out three tea towels. Moving fast he had them wet in the sink, wiping blood from Alan’s eyes and nose, doing it again when the blood kept coming … he had the green first aid kit down ready to open when Alan stopped him with a bloody hand on his wrist. “No. Leave it. Let’s go.”

____

Saul had the engine running and the headlights on. The light showed them clearly.  
There was blood everywhere, Alan’s face covered in gore, like something from a horror. The Alpha staggered heavily as he reached the steps and Sherlock was there with an arm round him… as they went for the Land Rover.  
As soon as they were in it Alan drove back at full speed and slammed it around and Saul, left with no time to think, drove his own car straight at the gate and swung around to block it just as Riddick screeched to a halt.  
Saul saw the gun come up and threw himself sideways, opening the door as he did and falling out as the windscreen cracked open from shot one.  
On his feet fast, hands up before he thought about it, he was shouting ….” Don’t shoot!” The Omega hadn’t moved, frozen in fear with both hands covering his face. “I’m a friend ….a friend!” Saul roared the words.  
Riddick was out the Land Rover, towering over him… and Saul saw his bright blue eyes through the streaming blood covering his face, before Riddick drew back his fist and punched him halfway across the road.

Saul hit the tarmac helplessly with the back of his head and fought to control his sprawling fall as Riddick moved past him to the car and reversed it so carelessly it hit the wall with a smash of glass tail lights. He moved back past Saul heading for his own car at a run, throwing Saul’s keys away into the dark without a glance.  
Saul made it onto his knees and shouted the only word he could think of….”MYCROFT!”…. and the boy cowering from the violence in the passenger seat pulled his hands away and stared as Alan grabbed Saul by his jacket and yanked him up as he hit out...his gut busting punches to the belly subduing the other Alpha enough to force him into the back of the Land Rover.  
Saul choked in pain as Alan Riddick floored the car and drove away, tires screeching as they left tracks on the tarmac and John knew even as he sped around the corner and saw the tail lights disappearing that he was too late to stop them…..

 

Everywhere Saul looked there were trees and under them bare earth covered with a thick dry carpet of pine needles. His head and gut ached and his hands had been pulled behind him and tied so hard he couldn’t feel his fingers.  
Over by the Land Rover Sherlock was using a water bottle and an incongruously bright, lemon tea towel to wipe away the thick clotted blood from Alan Riddick’s face. He hadn’t looked Saul’s way once.  
It took a long time to wash away the blood. 

It was dark outside the beam of the headlights but Saul could still see the smeared red blood wiped all over Alan’s face as the Alpha came for him and pulled him onto his feet and towards the lights.  
Forced down onto his knees Saul closed his eyes as he felt the cold kiss of death pressed through the barrel of a gun held against the back of his neck by Riddick.

“Who are you and why did you shout my brother’s name? How do you know him?” Sherlock demanded answers.”And don’t try lying to me… because I’ll know and Alan will kill you.”

“I’m Saul Jefferson. I’m a journalist….I’ve never met your brother, I just know his name…. You knew John Watson? I’m here with him….”  
“Prove it.” The Elite Omega said coldly as though the name meant nothing. “Prove it or we leave you here.”  
Saul thought desperately. “My phone.”  
Alan searched him roughly and threw the phone to the Omega.  
Before Saul could say…” Its password protected.” Sherlock was scrolling through it. “My photos,” Saul said bleakly. There were selfies of himself and John together in bed only that morning... John's arm under Saul's neck......  
Sherlock was very still all of a sudden……  
“Well…do I kill the bastard or not?” Alan’s voice was hoarse and exhausted.  
Sherlock looked up and stared at Saul, his unique eyes were not friendly. “Not today.”


	53. Fool's gold.....Fool's love....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrown together under difficult circumstances Saul and Sherlock don't exactly get along... No surprise there!  
> Wonder why that could be.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes John made a BIG mistake bringing Saul......
> 
> Blue the track is Fool's Gold by Dagny.

Saul wasn’t sure that Alan Riddick didn’t still think he’d be better dead. The other Alpha stared at him like he was a problem that should be solved… brutally. Saul had seen that look before in the war zones of the Middle East, usually before someone got taken outside and popped in the head by a bullet.  
There’d been a lot of intense discussion between Alan and Sherlock, voices kept deliberately low and every word of conversation kept in Danish so Saul couldn’t understand what was being said, before Sherlock had simply walked away and once the Elite Omega was gone Riddick had pulled Saul to his feet and frog marched him past the car and into the forest.  
“What are you doing? Where are you taking me?” Saul had no idea where he was or if anyone would even find his body before it was picked clean.  
“Unless you want to freeze to death overnight…there’s a fishing cabin down by the lake, it’s not been used in a year.” Alan’s reply was terse.

The cabin appeared through the trees. Basic didn’t even cover it. Saul had seen bigger sheds.

Sherlock was already inside, he looked around nervously when he heard footsteps in the doorway.  
“Only me Sherlock.” Alan pushed Saul roughly into a chair and bolted the door.  
Saul stared around him, there was one room with a small log burning stove, a table with two rickety canvas fisherman’s chairs complete with net cup holders. An orange plastic bowl sat balanced on an old insulated picnic box. A cardboard box full of clutter was on the floor by the one small window.  
At the far end of the small room was a bed with a red mattress set into a small alcove.  
“Whoever built this dump didn’t put any love into it. Bloody Hell… what a shithole” Riddick swore, looking round. Saul happened to agree with that assessment but he kept silent.  
“ Seeing as there’s no inside toilet…. I think the main shit hole is outside.” Sherlock said concisely.  
Riddick laughed. “Aye, we’d best be careful where we step. “

It was freezing. Riddick made fast work of lighting a fire and Sherlock began looking through the box on the floor.  
“Anything?” Alan asked.  
“Baked beans, green beans, tinned jam… tinned mackerel. Some coffee. It's all in date.” Sherlock listed the food as he found it, “ I could make beans?”  
“Aye go for it lad. I’d eat. Give him his with a spoon not a fork.“ Riddick stood up with a grunt of pain, and undid Saul’s numb hands from behind his back before retying his right wrist to the chair frame, that left Saul’s left hand free so he could feed himself.  
“ A spoon...really?....I’m right handed by the way.” Saul said.  
“I know.” Alan said enigmatically then sat heavily down across the small table from him with a combative stare.  
Saul looked at the state of the Alpha’s battered, blood streaked face. The biggest gash close to his scalp was oozing sluggishly.

Neither Sherlock or Riddick spoke to Saul as the Omega poured both cans of baked beans into a battered old fry pan and began heating them on top of the wood burning stove.  
Sherlock sat down and spooned out the food onto the plates he’d found, avoiding any eye contact with Saul. The beans were burnt…Alan and Sherlock shared a grimace and a plate. Sherlock pushed the beans around his half of the tin plate without any purpose, Alan ate and then turned the plate around and ate what Sherlock had left barely touched. Saul couldn’t eat a bite, his stomach muscles bruised from the heavy punches Riddick had thumped into his gut earlier.

Alan stood up to put the plates in the bowl and began making coffee, using freshly fallen snow from the roof outside the door for water .  
Saul managed to get his first semi decent look at Sherlock’s face…the fuzzy black and white surveillance photo hadn't done the teenager justice.  
Given that the Omega had yet to look up at him … he could see he had high, sharply angled cheekbones, thick, long lashes and softly arched pink lips…. Saul had met one Elite Omega...Samir... but only now was he able to breathe in and understand what all the hype was about...the scent was amazing, something else completely.  
In the flesh Sherlock was strikingly beautiful….  
John hadn’t mentioned that small fact…. and Saul was already wondering why.

“How did you meet John?” Sherlock’s voice was unmistakably Elite.  
“We met in Berlin, I interviewed him for Sky News about the Pro Omega Alliance…” Saul saw Sherlock’s bewildered frown. Seen this close the Omega's eyes were incredible.  
“The… what?” Sherlock asked.  
“You haven’t heard of them?” Saul was taken off guard, he thought everyone had. “John started the group… but it’s Europe wide now. Advice centres, media campaigns for Elite Omega rights to be enshrined in law. Sometimes, very rare cases … he’ll take an Elite Omega when they've been rejected by their Alpha and gives them a safe place to stay, help with starting over ….”  
“John does that?” Sherlock sounded doubtful and Saul saw Alan’s head turn to check he was ok with the conversation. “He wanted to be a Doctor… at school that’s always what he said.”  
“He is. He was in the medical corps... works in St Bart's now.”  
“Oh….” Sherlock said, reaching out for the mug of steaming black coffee and turning it around so he could cup his long fingers around the heat. He looked down watching the steam rise.  
“So you and this Omega, Sherlock knew at school … John is it? … you’re dating?” Riddick asked .  
Saul tried a friendly smile. Nobody smiled back. “I’m not sure he’d call us boyfriends but yes…we’re together.”  
Saul didn’t correct Riddick’s assumption that John was Omega… but then, neither did Sherlock.

 

“So…how’d you come to be sat waiting for us outside the clinic?” Riddick still didn’t sound convinced Saul meant Sherlock no harm.  
“Mycroft traced a prescription in your name and someone John knew helped narrowed the free clinic down to this one.” Saul saw Sherlock’s eyes move to Alan’s in silent comunication.  
“You spoke to Lars? He tell you we’d be there today?” Alan sounded pissed off at that idea.  
“No…John was hoping to speak to him at his flat tonight or he’d have been there when you came to the clinic. We watched the clinic doors all day looking for Sherlock.” Saul answered Riddick as he’d asked the question.  
Sherlock’s long fingers tightened round the mug.

“Then how the Hell did you not know that murdering bastard was in there, you let us walk right in on him!” Alan’s voice was raised angrily. ”There’s a girl dead and that fucker had a knife at Sherlock’s throat.”  
Saul had no idea. “He must have gone in when I was out the car. The clinic had closed. Lars wasn’t there …we were coming back in the morning. We’d…John and me ….we’d been there all day.”  
Sherlock looked up at Riddick tearfully. “He knew we were coming in to see him…Alan if he wasn’t there maybe he’s hurt or… worse? I should never have gone there. People are dead… It’s all because of me. It’s my fault.” His voice faltered, distressed.  
Saul was surprised when Riddick stood up, reached out for Sherlock, pulled him up into his arms and hugged him tight. ”Hush lad…it’s not.”

There was just the one bed, a small single with a stained, damp smelling mattress. Alan had given out loudly about the filth of the mattress before finally he’d settled Sherlock into the bed on top of one unzipped, outspread sleeping bag. He pulled the canvas fishing chair closer to the fire for Saul and put a log on to burn down slowly, before cuffing Saul’s wrists to the arms of the chair.  
“You still don’t trust me?” Saul had to ask.  
“Not a bloody chance. I’m not risking waking up to find the boy taken and my car gone.” was Alan’s only reply. 

It was cold and uncomfortable and Saul couldn’t sleep. It was impossible to lay back in the flimsy chair which was placed so the other Alpha could keep an eye on him, and that meant he was left looking right at the bed Sherlock was sharing with Riddick.  
Alan had given him two belligerent stares already.  
Saul closed his eyes, shivered under the coat Alan had thrown over him and tried to sleep ….

Alan was exhausted …the bones of his face felt like they’d been broken and rearranged…badly… and he had a killer head ache like an axe embedded in his skull but even so being close to Sherlock’s scented skin and hair made him relax and breathe slower. 

The cold and the quiet murmuring of voices woke Saul only hours later. Every part of his back hurt and his jaw ached into the bone. He wanted desperately to be back at the hotel in a warm comfortable bed next to John.  
The room was still dark, lit only by a shaft of weak greyish yellow morning light across the rough floor. He kept his eyes closed and listened.

In the dark, unseen, Sherlock touched light finger tips and delicate lips to the bruising marks and split skin that covered Alan’s face with a soft, thankful tenderness. “He could have killed you.”  
“He tried… didn’t go his way.” Riddick’s voice was low and intimate.  
“We could be home now in the warm if it wasn’t for me. It’s my fault they’ve found us... my fault people are dead . my fault everything's ruined and Charles knows we're here.... its all my fault.”  
“Don’t say that lad. Sssh.” Alan stroked his back.  
"I don't want to go back home...." Sherlock sounded afraid.  
"I know....me neither."  
Saul wasn't sure if what he thought he heard was kissing.

 

Saul listened to Riddick’s pained broken breathing, wondering how the Hell the man could sleep in this bone numbing cold, with the injuries he had.  
He took a chance on Sherlock being awake and spoke into the dark. “You know he needs a Doctor…stitches… he could have concussion, a bleed on the brain…anything.”  
“Don’t pretend you care.“ Sherlock sounded defensive.  
“I’m not…I’m just saying. You care don’t you? … John’s a Doctor. I’m sure he’d check him over. Make sure he’s okay.”  
“I know what you’re ‘just saying’.” Sherlock whispered. “Leave me alone.”

“John’s been looking for you for a long time…he’s risked his own life for you…but you didn’t want to be found did you? I heard you say so. We were on holiday; John and me, a weekend break ..the second your brother said you were here John flew straight down.… whatever 'friendship' you had still meant something to him because he's a good person…but you’ve never even mentioned him to Alan have you? He thinks John’s an Omega.” Saul was starting to suspect John might have been lying to him and he wanted some answers.  
“You don’t understand.” Was all the reply Sherlock gave.  
Saul felt exasperated and increasingly justified in feeling angry on John’s behalf.

This time he waited ten minutes then tried again. “You’re okay with me being chained to a chair all night like a dog? What if Alan decides to put a bullet in my head this morning? You’d be ok with that, would you?”  
“He wouldn’t do that. Stop talking like you know him.”  
“I’ve seen enough. Acts first, thinks later. Handy with his fists.”  
“Stop talking about him.”  
“Makes you feel safe, does he? When did he start being so caring? Right after you started sleeping with him?”  
“You idiot.” Sherlock hissed. ”What does John see in you?”  
Saul reacted automatically to the dismissal from an Elite Omega he already suspected had history with John that had been deliberately kept from him… “An equal…. Mighty brave from behind your pet gorilla aren’t you? ..for an Omega who hasn’t looked me in the eyes for longer than a second yet.“ He let his anger at being cuffed and kept against his will show.

Sherlock spoke up, his voice an angry hiss. “You don’t know Alan and you don’t know me…..”  
“No…? You left your own son behind to fuck the hired muscle. Did you screw the butler and the chauffeur too while your brother and John were losing sleep worrying over you, trying to find you? Some Omega you are!”

Saul regretted losing his temper and saying it within seconds of the words being spoken, knowing he'd gone to far…the immediate silent, stillness from Sherlock was so tense he could feel it. “Sherlock?.... I just want to go home to my own bed with John… it’s been a shit 24 hours. I shouldn’t have said that. I apologise. I know John says the things you’ve been through were horrific….” He stopped himself before he said the rape word... no need to go that far, he'd said enough to make his own claim to John apparent and put the Omega in no doubt John had moved on and was happy without him. He could afford to show a little magnanimity. “Sherlock?”  
There was no reply….

 

John had had a Hell of a night but to look at him Mycroft Holmes had had an even worse one.  
“Anything?” Mycroft asked before John had fully opened the door.  
“Nothing…but Saul will talk him round.” John had to believe that.  
“Alan Riddick is a violently unpredictable man John. An animal. You saw what he did in that clinic.” Mycroft kept any emotion from his tone bar concern.  
John poured them both a scotch. “He saved Sherlock’s life….and took a beating doing it. I hate the bastard as much as you do but in this instant he did what he needed to do. It’s not always pretty.  
He knows Sherlock’s still in danger, he can’t keep on hiding him now Magnussen knows where to look…. Let Saul talk to Riddick, make him see its over. Sherlock knows we're here now...”


	54. Pull Yourself Together Now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riddick makes the difficult decision that its time to bring Sherlock in from the cold.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been a bit mean here and kept John's reunion moment back...just until the next update!  
> I felt like so much was happening the emotional impact needed its own space....anyways that is the plan! There will be more.
> 
> Blue the track is Now Is Not The Time by Leo Stannard.

Mycroft sat at a table by the window, watching surveillance footage, while behind the glass the delicate drift of snow settled on every possible surface. The final camera image of Alan Riddick’s vehicle crossing one of the bridges and leaving town was haunting.…the possibility that the Alpha had vanished again, taking Sherlock with him into oblivion, was one Mycroft was staunchly refusing to consider.  
To distract himself he looked again through the pile of images taken from outside the free clinic. There was something undefinably different about Sherlock and it disturbed Mycroft that he couldn’t pinpoint what that was. Yes, the hair was shorn and the style of clothing was unfamiliar but even when he excluded all those trifling details… it concerned him that he was still left with a vaguely imprecise sense of wrongness.

“Does Sherlock look to be in good health to you John?” Perhaps that was the problem?  
“He’s still severely underweight, it shows even through all those layers. He’ll be feeing the cold more too.” John sounded like he expected it. “Irregular meals probably and stress. Elite Omega tend to drop weight easily. Mrs Hudson will feed him up, get him eating.”  
“Sherlock rarely finished a meal even at home, where Father employed an excellent Housekeeper.”  
“She’ll tempt him. Her home baking is unreal.” John said.  
Mycroft nodded and kept silent about the vague sense of unease he was feeling, since he couldn’t pinpoint its exact cause yet.

Alan knew something was up.  
Sherlock wasn’t in a talking mood and was avoiding even looking Saul’s way. He’d boiled some water before cleaning the cuts and abrasions all over Alan’s face carefully for a second time, his long fingers steadying Riddick’s chin. All his concentration seemed to be on the job he was doing but Alan still had a feeling that the lad was upset.  
“Everything okay?” Alan was worried, this dump was no fit place for them to stay, it was cold, dirty and the little food they had wasn’t enough to make a decent meal.  
“I’m fine.”  
Alan didn’t believe him, he knew Sherlock wouldn’t complain but that didn’t mean he was comfortable here. Why would he be? The place was a hovel. No wonder the boy looked miserable.  
They needed to talk and reach a decision; usually something Alan wanted to do with Sherlock cuddled up and feeling safe but there was no bloody privacy to do that sort of thing….

Sherlock wanted to talk to Alan… he needed to tell Alan about John but how did he even start?  
Knowing Saul was watching made it impossible. What if Alan was angry with him and Saul saw.  
John was an Alpha…Alan wouldn’t trust that, he could be protective enough around Omega he didn’t know well.  
Never mind the fact that Alan had already met John that day at school and when he had, he’d punched John unconscious. There was probably no good way to remind Alan of that….  
So much had happened since then.

John had been the first-person Sherlock had ever trusted to listen and hear some of the truth about what being bonded to Charles was really like….  
He’d never changed inside Sherlock’s mind… where he was unassailably the best friend Sherlock had ever had.  
It was ridiculous he knew but he hadn’t considered the probability that John would have changed. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid…. of course, John had changed….it had been years.

Maybe he wasn’t the only person who’d changed.  
Maybe Mycroft had changed too.  
Maybe he didn’t even live in London anymore.  
Maybe he had a bond mate and two ginger children, or a Labrador dog, or a Volvo, or quite possibly all four.  
Maybe Sherlock was just an obligation now….

‘Better to face facts lad, I’d rather a hard truth every time than some wishy-washy bullshit.’.…. Alan was always saying that.  
It was stupid to think anyone would still be the same when Sherlock knew he wasn’t.  
So…. Saul didn’t like him….and Saul and John were together.  
They shared beds and confidences now…. Sherlock with Alan, and John with …. Saul.  
That changed anybody.  
So…. Maybe John wouldn’t understand anymore.  
And maybe Mycroft wouldn’t like who Sherlock was now either.  
Especially if he knew about Alan and the pregnancy.…

Saul could see Sherlock was upset and emotional.  
The Omega was subdued and quiet, barely speaking at all and avoiding looking over to where Saul sat.  
Alan had asked him four times was he okay and was watching the youth closely.  
Saul had gone too far with what he’d said and he knew it.  
Mentioning the Elite Omega’s past as though he knew it all, when John had trusted him with knowing only the bare fact that Sherlock had been horrifically abused.  
And he never should have bought up Magnussen’s child.  
Accusing Sherlock of being Alan’s lover and more… when he hadn’t seen any proof that it was true.  
He shouldn’t have said any of it.  
He’d only meant it as a warning that John and he were close now and Sherlock shouldn’t expect things to be whatever they had once been between himself and John. 

The trouble was that Saul wasn’t sure he believed it himself.  
Sherlock was beautiful. John would have to be blind not to notice that and, unless Sherlock was an ugly duckling made perfect swan in the years after John had known him, there was no way on earth that Sherlock hadn’t been stunning when John had known him.  
Saul ran through all the things he had ever heard John share with him about Sherlock inside his head…played the violin, danced ballet, loved science, incredibly clever…. beautiful had never been mentioned. Not once.  
The omission worried Saul. 

Alpha, Omega or Beta.... John was actively tri- sexual and had history with males of both secondary genders as well as Beta women. If there was one thing Saul knew well it was that John had a very high sex drive for an Alpha. He liked sex and wanted a lot of it.  
Sherlock had to know that, if he knew John at all. Maybe he and John had a past that had included sex.  
John may not have buried his knot inside Sherlock before but it would fit and that already gave Sherlock an edge over Saul sexually that made him worry. It was the one thing he and John could never do.  
The boy was an Elite Omega for God’s sake and that meant heat sex…long scent crazed days of wet open holed fucking, no lube needed….  
Of course, John would want some of that if he could get it. 

Alan made three mugs of coffee using the last of it and took them over to the small table where Saul was sat. He wasn’t surprised when Sherlock came up took a mug and retreated to sit on the bed. The lad was nervous around any strange Alpha.  
Alan noticed Saul looked uncomfortable when Sherlock avoided him like that, but then he’d not know Sherlock’s past or how the Omega had more reason to fear Alphas’ he didn’t know than most.

Alan took a deep breath before he spoke. “Right… the foods running out, I’m sodding freezing and that bed you’re sitting on isn’t fit for a dog to lie on. We need to talk…. work out what we should do.“ Alan saw Sherlock look up sharply.

“What you should do….? Are you serious? You’re out of options surely?” Saul had had enough.  
Alan cast a dismissive look Saul’s way. It was the lad’s opinion that mattered. “Sherlock?”  
“You don’t have anywhere else we can go?” Sherlock sounded desperate.  
“Nowhere I can think of lad.” Riddick said it kindly.

Saul couldn’t believe it. To Hell with this! “I don’t know what cloud fucking cuckoo land you two live in but back in reality your brother and John have flown in to take you home! There’s a court case prepared, a whole bloody team waiting…. a safe house. You can’t just up and bloody vanish! You either want to break your bond or you don’t! Now I don’t know about you both but I fucking want to go home.” He only realised he’d raised his voice from the low warning growl Alan gave.

Once Saul was quiet, Alan spoke up. “You need a warm bed, proper food…Sherlock you know you do.” Alan sounded resigned. “We can’t risk going home to the cabin. It’d be fine if we could, but they could have found it. The temperatures dropping. Hell, we haven’t even enough sleeping bags…. We can’t stay here another night …the bloody place needs torching if you ask me!”  
Sherlock said nothing. He looked defeated.  
“You’ve trusted me this far. I only want to do what’s right by you lad you know that?” Riddick knew he sounded reluctant. He couldn’t make himself sound optimistic. He wasn’t feeling it.

“You won’t leave me? Promise?” There was fear in every word.  
Alan stood up and went over, crouching down so he could see Sherlock’s reluctant face, hands flat on the mattress, either side of the Omega’s slim thighs. “Never…. I go where you go. I’m your bodyguard, aren’t I?” He mouthed the words …I love you soft lad…so only Sherlock could see.  
Sherlock’s hug was more like an attack but Alan didn’t even flinch, despite the bruising that covered his ribs and back, soaking it up like he was starved of touch and locking his broad arms round the Elite Omega to keep him there, the boy’s face hidden against Alan’s neck.  
Saul couldn’t see Sherlock’s lips moving against Alan’s ear. Whispering secrets.

Mycroft had given up on sleep long ago. The knowledge that he had to outpace Charles in the search for Sherlock kept him awake and mulling over every small possibility.  
The police search was extending slowly outwards along the route last taken by Alan Riddick yet both John and Mycroft knew it was very much like searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack and it could take weeks before Alan Riddick surfaced again.  
John had suggested they concentrate on the pine forest and any cabins within the vicinity of the road Alan’s Land Rover had last been seen on, but the area was vast and that would take time.  
Mycroft could call on the resources but did they have the time?  
More importantly was he ahead in the search or was Magnussen?

In his own hotel room John lay awake all night long, looking at the latest images of Sherlock frame by frame and thinking about the past.  
Years spent living as Sherlock had couldn’t have failed to leave their mark.  
John could see the brittle stress in every sharp angular line of Sherlock’s body…. but behind Sherlock’s obvious vulnerability, for as long as John had known him, there had always been a hidden strength.  
The Omega would need that all courage now but did he still have any of it left?  
He looked exhausted.

Alan dialled the number and went to pass Sherlock the burner phone, only to have the lad shake his head and refuse to take it, turning his head away to look stubbornly out the car window.  
The call tone was loud in Alan’s ear. Shrill in the still, warm darkness of the car.  
“Hello…..Mycroft Holmes….”  
Alan cleared his throat which had suddenly tightened up. He didn’t take his eyes off Sherlock as he spoke. “I’m bringing him in. Where can we meet you?”  
There was a brief silent moment of shock before Mycroft collected himself and spoke, choosing an area from which all exits would be guarded in case Alan Riddick changed his mind again…. ” There’s a private airfield on the edge of the city. I can have a plane on standby.”  
“I know it. We’ll be there in two hours.”  
The call disconnected without another word.

 

4 A.M ….an ominous dark sky with eddying clouds, backlit by a luminous white moon.  
As they drove in John pointed out Alan Riddick’s battered old Land Rover already being taped off by armed Police.  
Saul was stood just inside the sliding doors into the airport talking with three Police officers, a silver blanket around his shoulders.  
John greeted him with a crushing bear hug.  
“Mycroft Holmes… Saul Jefferson. “  
The patrician Elite Alpha alongside John extended his hand, his eyes already sweeping the large, open space, searching for Sherlock.  
“You look like shit!” John said it with a warm grin. His mood ebullient. Sherlock was here and safe!  
Saul laughed. “Wait till you see the state of that bastard Riddick.”  
There was a stiff silence.  
“Where is he?” John said with a cold, deceptive calm.  
Mycroft was already striding furiously away towards the square, glass walled waiting room in which two seated figures were just visible.  
John turned to follow.  
“Wait John…” Saul spoke up fast as he caught John by the sleeve. John turned, the need to see Sherlock plain on his face. Saul finished the sentence. “You need to know…Sherlock doesn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to come home John…. “

Mycroft stood stock still.  
Sherlock….  
His brother was the other side of the door and all he had to do was open it.  
Sherlock’s back was towards the door, sat with the flexible, fluidity of grace Mycroft had always envied cross legged on the long orange couch. The soft chaotic curls that had always made his brother instantly recognisable were gone but the pale, delicate nape of his neck with its huge disfiguring bite was the exact same.  
Alan Riddick sat facing Sherlock, the metal handcuffs around his wrists clearly visible. Sherlock was so close to the man that his bent knee was resting on top of the Alpha’s muscled thigh, leaning so intimately close they could have been whispering confidences.

Mycroft took one last steadying breath and reached for the door handle at the exact same time as a battered looking Riddick raised his head and saw him…he looked more resigned than pleased..  
Sherlock turned in the next instant.

For both Holmes brothers’, the need to accumulate and process every tiny detail of visual information they could absorb from the other after so long apart was almost overwhelming.... words were secondary.  
Sherlock spoke first….” You didn’t change.” He sounded incredibly relieved. ”You don’t have a bond mate, ginger children or a Labrador ….”  
Mycroft sounded aggrieved at the very idea. “Of course not. One’s personality traits and habits ought to be thoroughly established by the time you reach twenty-one at the latest; it shows maturity of purpose. Any profound changes past that point are signs of an unbalanced desire to begin again and the mistaken popularist belief that an individual can simply choose to….”  
Sherlock thudded into his arms….


	55. Hidden Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little tense as emotions and suspicions began to bubble and simmer under the surface.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The track is Lolita by Dream Wife.... Odd choice I know.

Mycroft tried his utmost not to take the stereotypical Alpha inhalation as Sherlock’s arms tightened round him but it was impossible to resist …. Sherlock’s complex, subtly perfumed skin was the scent of so many memories, of a past that both brothers alone in the world shared.….

Days spent in that endless echoing house with its huge ornately plastered rooms full of faded, well-worn antiques and imposing family portraits….

Spring morning's full of damp , cold hours that passed slowly, trapped inside watching rain lash the flower beds. The ragged rain beaten pink blossom the only point of colour in a day stripped of any shade but grey.  
Sherlock following the water that ran in heavy streams down the leaded window panes of the walking gallery with one long finger; or dancing up and down the wide oak floor boards, while Mycroft stayed close to the huge stone fireplace and its roaring blaze.  
Sherlock was always enchanting, he drew the eye and kept it and Mycroft had never been immune to his little brother’s charm when the Omega’s every movement was filled with animation and natural grace and his conversation with startlingly intelligent observations.  
The warm, rich scent of Sherlock’s hair bought back endless glorious summers spent laying under the massive oak tree that dated from the Elizabethan age…. Mycroft studying, while Sherlock leant against him knotting long, seed topped stems of grass into an intricate rope.  
Autumn meals of home cooked soup, watching Sherlock push pieces of carrot under the surface with his spoon and then release them so they surfaced. Most of their meals, when neither parent was home, were eaten in the cream and green walled kitchen at the long, well washed cook’s table that had been there since the 1700s, scrubbed and scoured by countless scullery maids until the grain of the wood itself was smooth; surrounded by wall hung Victorian copper saucepans and mysterious Edwardian kitchen gadgets… It felt as though time had stood quite still.  
Long months of Winter spent following Sherlock, making sure he stayed away from the iced fountains and ornamental lakes, as the child wandered through the walled gardens with their statues of heraldic beasts made eerily phantasmagorical by their white, windswept covering of ice and snow.  
Nights spent talking, inventing convoluted fables and tales of brigands and pirates until Sherlock fell asleep his childish body surprisingly hot and heavy to share a single bed with.  
Years spent defining love by the feelings of dedication and protection he had always felt for Sherlock as his brother.

 

John stood still, conscious of Saul next to him. Giving Mycroft space and time alone with his brother while conscientiously counting time with one eye on the clock.  
He couldn’t stop watching the Holmes brothers from across the foyer…  
Sherlock’s dark head and Mycroft’s auburn one were close. That was a good sign.  
Talking was a good sign…. Hugging an even better one.  
It took a long time for either brother to let go.

John found the first doubt struck him as he walked towards the door.  
“If he’s forgotten me I’m going to feel like a prat.”  
“He hasn’t.” Saul said flatly as he held the door open.

The overwhelmed emotion still on Mycroft’s face made John feel like an intruder until he spoke, his patrician accent unexpectedly soft. “Sherlock, there’s somebody here to see you.”  
John felt Sherlock’s sudden stillness as a physical thing. “Hey…” He tried to sound reassuring but there was still an underlying emotional vibration to his voice he’d never heard before.  
And Sherlock turned around….  
All the words John had thought he’d say were lost to him, leaving him staring at Sherlock’s anxious face…at the marks of sheer exhaustion and fragility that overlaid the pale, ethereal beauty John had never forgotten. “Hello Sherlock.”  
Sherlock’s intense gaze didn’t move from John’s eyes. “John… Hello.” He made an abortive move towards John and hesitated.His smile was shy and fragile.  
It hurt John to see how uncertain Sherlock was….

“God, Sherlock you look the exact same…..course I got a lot taller down the years.” John poked fun at himself with a self-deprecating grin; probing, trying to find the boy he'd known.  
It worked .....Sherlock snorted. “Massively. I barely knew you.”  
“We can’t all have legs longer than Bambi.” John’s uninhibited laugh hadn’t changed.  
Behind Sherlock, Alan Riddick had raised his head and was staring.  
“God but its good to see you....Is it okay if I hug you?” John was careful to ask.  
Sherlock’s eyes flicked nervously past John and back before he nodded. “Yes...it's okay.”  
And without any more fuss John took the few steps needed to put both arms round Sherlock, hugged him close and breathed in….

Sherlock’s scent was more vanilla heavy, more saturated. Unbelievable and rich. It hit the back of John’s throat with shocking intimacy.  
For John, it was the scent filled memory of the most amazing months of his life. Of a friendship and secret love, he’d only just begun to admit the importance of to himself…. before it was abruptly torn away. He stole another inhalation.  
It was only then that John felt the burn at the back of his throat and realised that underneath it all was the recent scent of another Alpha…….

 

John….  
Against him Sherlock sucked in his own shaky inhale and shut his eyes in remembrance.  
John’s Alpha scent was the same. The exact same.  
And for a moment it was as though nothing had changed…when everything had.  
Sherlock swallowed hard, feeling giddy. Heart racing. Pulse thready. Hard to breathe.  
Suddenly the whole day was all too much …. Overwhelmed Sherlock stepped back almost involuntarily.

As John let go and stepped back reluctantly the Omega’s legs went from under him.  
Riddick shouted in warning as both he and John moved to catch Sherlock.

Sherlock came around laying on the slightly grubby acrylic carpet.  
John was taking his pulse, warm fingers pressed to the slashed white scars covering Sherlock’s wrists. …he had to be crouched on the floor next to Sherlock. “Don’t try to move yet Sherlock.”  
Behind and around them all Hell was breaking loose. Saul was shouting and even Mycroft’s voice was raised. Alan’s threatening growl was familiar.  
Sherlock kept his eyes closed. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see what was happening. Surrounded by raised, panicked and angry voices it felt safer to pretend.  
John looked at Sherlock closely then took a lungful of air and roared in a volume that wouldn’t have been out of place on a parade ground. “Saul get off him! And YOU… Riddick or whatever your name is…. Shut the Hell up you kidnapping bastard and let me do my damn job!”

Bit not good……

“Sherlock? Can you hear me?” John sounded concerned.  
Sherlock forced his eyes open. It hurt to look at the light.  
“Don’t try to sit up.”  
Sherlock felt so bad he didn’t think sitting up and staying sat up was remotely possible.  
“What's he eaten today ? Anything?” John asked Riddick sharply.  
“Nothing. He left it all. His nerves were at him.” Alan sounded stressed and oddly hoarse.  
“Right. Mycroft…his blood sugar will be low. Can you organise some food and a hot drink? Something light and easy to digest.”  
“Of course. I’ll be right back brother mine.” Mycroft sounded relieved to be of practical use, he patted Sherlock awkwardly on the shoulder. 

“Have you fainted before Sherlock?” John checked.  
“A good few times.” Alan answered for the Omega without noticing he did. “Not in months though.” His voice sounded strange.  
Sherlock struggled to sit up. The need to seek comfort instinctual.  
“Sherlock stay there…. just tell me what you need and I’ll get it for you?” John was checking his pulse again, his hazel eyes full of compassion.  
“Alan…I need …Alan.”

Alan couldn’t touch Sherlock properly with both hands cuffed together.  
Sherlock could feel finger tips in his but Alan couldn't take his hand when Sherlock reached for him. “Alright lad? I’m here. Right here.... These sodding cuffs.” His frustration was obvious.  
“I’ll see if I can get those taken off.” John’s voice was matter of fact.  
“John, you can’t be serious! He’s violent!” Saul’s tone was confrontational.  
John stood up. “Sherlock I’ll be right outside the door.” There was no mistaking the dark anger in his level gaze. ”Saul …. a word, outside please.” John looked straight at Riddick as he added. “Sherlock needs quiet… any upset and you’ll be taken out the room. “  
For a second Alan looked indignant and fit to argue but then he looked down at Sherlock’s exhausted weak face and simply said. “Fair enough.” 

Outside the closed door Saul faced a furious side of John Watson he’d never seen before and wisely held his peace.  
“What the HELL was that?” John seethed with concentrated angry aggression. “You started that brawl Saul!”  
“That tosser had me in cuffs for a bloody day and a half John and you want to free his fucking hands? That’s just fucking great! What’s your plan for when he beats one of us to a bloody pulp for looking at Sherlock twice? Because believe me he is more than capable of just that! ” Saul was deeply angry. All his insecurity about Sherlock simmered under every jealously resentful word.  
“Saul….” John sucked in a shallow angry breath ready for a fast retort before he wrestled control of his quick-fire temper back. “Right now I wouldn’t care if he was the Devil incarnate! Am I getting those cuffs off Riddick? Yes…. for Sherlock, NOT for him!”  
Saul opened his mouth to protest but John dismissed it and shook his head angrily. “Stop personalising this and let me do what I came here to do.”  
“It’s far from bloody impersonal John! Not this time!” Saul couldn’t hold back. “What’s Sherlock to you?”  
John’s tone was quiet and deadly. “What he is or was isn't up for discussion here. Its not the time or the place .....I’m here because this is what I DO Saul.... You look at him and see a threat? Do you know what I bloody see? Someone who has been through Hell and needs all the help he can get…including mine. I’m not walking away. He’s 19 Saul and the shit that’s been done to him breaks my fucking heart…have a little fucking compassion!” 

Saul knew this was it…breaking point. If he rejected John’s appeal it would all be over. John would  
walk away and Sherlock would have him. Over Saul’s dead body was that happening.  
He dragged in a deep breath full of emotion and let it out slowly. “I’m tired John....You’re right.... I let it get to me. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t have to help.”  
John’s solid hug and the too brief, compact pleasure of his body against Saul’s own was not something Saul was prepared to lose. If the Elite Omega thought otherwise, Saul would just have to disabuse him of that idea.

 

Sherlock glanced anxiously towards the door. The voices were indistinct. Loud.  
“You hit someone? Please tell me ...it wasn’t Mycroft or John?” Sherlock asked shakily.  
“No lad…. I went to catch you and he jumped me from behind and started choking me round my neck. I was seeing black…. I’d to hit the fucker’s back off the table before he’d let go.”  
Sherlock blinked, picturing what must have happened. “Saul? You banged him into a table?”  
“Twice… aye.” Alan sounded shamefaced. “He was choking me though…. and my hands are tied…. He was clung on round my throat like a bloody boa squeezing my wind pipe.”  
Sherlock stared, then smiled.  
“I’m not in trouble then?” Alan rested the edge of his hand against Sherlock’s cheek.  
“Not with me.” Sherlock said emphatically.  
“Good that’s all I care about.” Alan said with certainty. “Let’s get you up off that floor. Its bloody filthy.”  
Sherlock knew that would bother Alan.

With Sherlock helped up onto the couch Alan looked happier.  
“So…. this John,“ Alan said thoughtfully. “I met him years ago didn’t I? That time at your school.”  
“Yes.” Sherlock was relieved to finally say it.  
“Thought so.” Alan remembered. “I punched him?”  
“Yes… .I should have told you.“ Sherlock admitted.  
“You thought I’d lose it with you?” Riddick asked ruefully. “Because he’s Alpha.”  
“No…I just… I don’t know.” Sherlock felt so tired he couldn’t even make sense of what he’d thought. He really wanted to sleep.  
Alan reached for his hand and held it. “You and John…. Was it just friends, or more? Magnussen thought it was more.”  
Sherlock swallowed. “We kissed….once.“  
“I’ve kissed a few people before you myself. That’s okay….Why only the once?” Alan needed to know.  
“I was bonded…. I hadn’t told him. I hadn’t told anybody.”  
Alan raised an eyebrow. “How’d he take it? When you told him?”  
“I didn’t…. tell him everything. Almost but not everything. That day…he didn’t know Charles was my Alpha. I never told him who it was.”  
Alan gave a low whistle.

“You planning on telling him the truth this time around lad?”  
“We can’t tell about the baby, you know we can’t. No until it’s too late for them to do anything to stop it.”  
“I was thinking more … about you and me?” Alan knew how he sounded… . worried…like he needed reassurance. He had a lot more questions but now wasn’t the time.  
Sherlock looked at him closely. “I love you. I should say it more…probably I should say it all the time, because normal Omega do that, don’t they? They just blurt it out 24/7?  
Don’t mess with the way I pair socks…. I love you..... It’s snowing outside….I love you. I burnt lunch, again…I love you....  
That's John Watson, the only friend I had before you. We shared a room at school…I love you.”  
Alan grinned. “Now who’s being the idiot?“  
“You… I could be pregnant so I’m excused. Hormones.” Sherlock said firmly. “You can kiss me now.”  
“Bossy Omega….” Alan grumbled but he still did as he was told. Twice.


	56. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions are running high .....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok this is the official last update of this section of the story so I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who is reading....extra thanks if you commented , left kudos or recommended it...
> 
>  
> 
> Blue ...track is Running To The Sea by Royksopp.

“I’m going to sit here, try and grab a nap lad.” Alan stopped a few rows back from where Mycroft was stood waiting.  
Sherlock nodded and followed Mycroft a little further up the plane.  
John watched as Alan Riddick sat himself into one of the empty leather plane seats, leant his head back and closed his eyes. The Alpha’s face was a mess of contusions, with several gashes in his hairline…John had already offered to examine him, only for Alan to shrug the offer off.  
According to Riddick, Sherlock had already cleaned his face up for him twice. For some reason just knowing that fact got right under John’s skin…… 

From the memories and flashbacks John had of the day Sherlock was taken he’d recalled Alan’s muscular build and accent well enough and, of course, he’d seen the slightly blurred surveillance photos enough times to realise that Alan was significantly taller and more strongly built than Sherlock but seeing them close together was still a reality check.  
This then was the unbonded Alpha that Sherlock had spent close to nine months living alone with…. a man John and Mycroft barely knew and neither of them trusted, with good reason in John's opinion.  
John had already noted the sharply evaluative look Mycroft had given Riddick when he’d arrived back with the food and hot drinks John had requested. Whatever it was he’d deduced in the man’s appearance or face he had looked unsettled by it.  
John himself hadn’t liked the way Alan had simply picked up the untouched half of the sandwich from Sherlock’s plate, without even asking and had eaten it himself. It spoke of ownership to John. 

Sherlock was even more underweight than he’d looked in the photos…though of course the camera added weight, it still came as a shock to see how prominent his wrist bones, collar and cheek bones were.  
He didn’t seem to have much of an appetite either…removing all the chicken from the sandwich and eating only that. The lettuce and the bread were left untouched.  
He looked severely anaemic and John was dying to get some blood work done and see if that was as he suspected.  
The slashed white scarring that disfigured Sherlock’s thin, blue veined wrists had also come as a surprise. 

Mycroft was surprisingly thoughtful. John didn’t know what to expect with the man being an Elite Alpha but credit where credit was due, he had done nothing to upset Sherlock yet.  
For the first hour of the flight he’d instigated some weird word game that John suspected he and Sherlock had played before…one of the rules seemed to be that the answer had to be given in a language chosen by the other player.  
Sherlock’s shy smile and ducked head when he won were all new. He’d been shy before but never timid and John’s heart went out to him. He’d seen that identical response in every Elite Omega he’d ever worked with who’d come to him from an abusive background.

Mycroft must, like John, have had urgent questions he wanted answered but John was impressed when; faced with this new fragile brother, he held back.  
John had his own set of questions…some of which he damn well planned on demanding Riddick himself answered. He’d tried to get a read on it himself and failed…. the relationship between Sherlock and Riddick could as easily be paternal as it could be romantic or sexual from all he’d seen so far.  
Still when he’d asked Sherlock what he needed and that answer had come back…. ‘Alan. I need Alan’ ….it had been hard to hear.

Saul had questions too…that much was obvious. John knew he’d kept things back that he could have shared…. that he had shared with Greg.  
Sharing emotions was just easier when the other person was an Omega…. there was a natural lean towards intimacy, whereas with Saul there was always that competitive edge both sexually and physically that kept things vigorously demanding in and out of bed.

John would have to keep an eye on him, he could see that.  
It was one thing to feel that Elite Omega shouldn’t be treated the way society treated them and another thing to finally meet one and feel that raw animal attraction for the first time. John had never heard it better summed up than he had at in the army ….” You can hate everything about Elite Omega in principle…one sniff of any of them will have you hard enough to fuck all that morality on its head....long as you can get your knot in him you won’t care if he just murdered your own mother.”  
Which begged the question …. what had Alan Riddick done when he’d smelt Sherlock in heat?

Sherlock still curled up into a chair like a cat. That hadn’t changed.  
He looked exhausted but every time his eyes closed they’d snap open again desperately.  
Though Mycroft did his best to resume the conversation, picking it up as though he’d noticed nothing … John could see the concern on his face each time it happened.  
“Having encountered Uncle Rudi declaiming the balcony scene in stockings and a hand painted silk Kimono ...that was sufficiently untied for her to recognise he was utterly without underwear.... she left without giving notice…. I rather think that was the last straw for such a deeply religious Irish woman…. She’d been Housekeeper to a Priest previously.” Mycroft sighed.  
Sherlock blinked heavily and swayed unsteadily before he recovered.  
“Naturally, I had spoken to him about confining such activities to the bedroom but as usual my advice goes unheeded in the face of his wilful decadence….”  
Sherlock’s head slumped heavily sideways to rest against Mycroft’s shoulder and he didn’t move again.  
The stunned mix of tender bemused emotion on Mycroft’s face spoke volumes….

Sherlock looked out the window as the plane taxied down the runway. This was it then…no more snow, no more cabin, no more safe anonymity.  
As if he knew what Sherlock was thinking John shot him a sympathetic smile.  
“It’s raining.” Sherlock frowned.  
John couldn’t remember Sherlock hating the rain.

Mycroft’s authority allowed them to bypass the fact that Sherlock had no passport without any unpleasantries. There would be a fleet of cars waiting for them outside.  
Sherlock was nervous. The cavernous, overly bright echo of the airport was unsettling and he wasn’t used to being surrounded by so many people. Passers-by were staring, expecting to see somebody famous.  
There was a starling trapped inside the foyer and Sherlock could see it fluttering fearfully against the glass roof. He couldn’t see a way out for it.

Gusts of rain were blowing in and soaking the floor, there were bright yellow signs dotted across the tiled floor warning that it was slippery, a cleaner with a mop and a throng of people sheltering from the downpour.  
Sherlock didn’t see the photographers hidden among them before he was being blinded with the glaring flash.  
John shoved one of the paparazzi back like it was a rugby tackle. ”No comment. Let him through! Move. Move!”  
“Sherlock! Sherlock!.... Are you going back to your Alpha, Sherlock ....? Are you here for Aleksander? Will he remember you Sherlock?..... What about your son? Where’s your son now?”  
Sherlock had one arm crossed across his body, afraid for his baby if he took a bang. The flashes of light were disorientating  
“Get out of my fucking way!” Alan pushed agents and paparazzi aside regardless in the melee, fighting to reach Sherlock.  
“Alan! Alan!" Sherlock couldn't see him.  
As Alan knew he would do, faced with aggression and the cacophony of noise, Sherlock stopped moving and panicked, beginning to shut down.  
Alan caught him up and grabbed hold, pulling the Omega towards him with the lad's cheek crushed against his chest and forced him forward with a hard grip round his shoulders. “Fucking Hell! He wont walk through this!” Riddick yelled at John.  
John responded by grabbing one of the flashing camera’s and pushing it backwards, towards the man’s face , clearing space by brute force.  
Mycroft’s men had formed a tight, protective ring around them and were forcing a path through but the journalists still thrust their camera lenses over shoulders and heads in the fight to get that front-page photo. 

The cars were right there and Mycroft’s men were fighting to hold an open pathway to the door. Mycroft was inside the second car and Riddick saw John take a camera, that was being pushed into the open car door in a pushy attempt to capture anything and hurl it away across the roof of the car. A sneaky low punch from John freed up just enough space for Riddick to reach the open car door.  
“Sherlock…What about your bodyguard? Did you leave your Alpha for him? Sherlock! Over here!”  
Alan forced the Omega to keep his head down with a strong hand on top of his head ensuring Sherlock didn’t hit his skull as he ducked inside. Determined Alan pushed past John and into the seat next to Sherlock.  
Outside the car an embattled John managed to free himself from the struggle and slammed the door shut while outside the vehicle was surrounded and lenses were pressed up against the tinted glass.  
Mycroft was issuing a furious staccato of orders as the driver began to edge forward through the crowd with his hand upon the horn.  
Saul had been elbowed into the eye.  
All John could focus on was the scared sound of Sherlock's shaken crying and the sight of Alan Riddick’s arms tight round him….

It was quiet in the car as they hit the motorway, surrounded now by Police outriders.  
Mycroft was issuing more orders with an intense speed and focus that was only sharpened by anger. “The street will be closed outside 221b John. There will not be a repeat of this.”  
John nodded. “That’s good.” He wasn’t saying what he knew they were all thinking…. nobody wanted to say the name around Sherlock but this disaster had to be down to Magnussen.  
“A fucking cock up, that’s what that was!” Riddick was irate.  
Saul raised his voice, defending John. “How’s that helping?”  
Sherlock hadn’t spoken since getting into the car. He had averted his head and was staring silently out the window at the lines of the motorways hard shoulder. He’d pulled the hood of his jacket up, hiding his face from view as much as possible.  
“You ok Sherlock?” John asked him directly.  
Sherlock simply shook his head.

“Why is nobody saying it?“ Saul spoke up. “Every single one of those pathetic excuses for journalists works on newspapers owned by Charles Magnussen!”  
Sherlock’s head turned. “Nobody was saying it because nobody wanted me knowing.” He sounded miserable.  
“He can’t reach you Sherlock.” John reassured him.  
“I promise you brother mine the house is safe. Bullet proof glass and a three point deadlock in every window, I’ve installed a state of the art panic system that can lock down in seconds if any of the alarms are triggered. 24 hour in building and full street camera surveillance will be monitored by a team I’ve personally selected and in time trials the Police took only six minutes to arrive on the scene once the alarm was set off.” Mycroft was proud of every precautionary measure he’d put in place.  
Sherlock stared and even before he spoke John knew what he was going to say and realised the scale of the mistake that had just been made. “Wonderful…It sounds just like Apple Dore. A real home from home…Will you be watching me take a piss and undress as well?... How about it Alan? Do you feel like fucking me on camera like Charles did?”  
“Sherlock!” Mycroft’s appalled reprimand clashed with Alan’s sharp interjection.  
“That’s enough lad!” Alan was flustered.  
Saul hoped he didn’t look as delighted by Sherlock's last revelation as he felt.

“I know you’re afraid Sherlock. Nobody wants to make you uncomfortable.” John’s voice was calm and capable despite everything. “Do you want to look at the place first, before you say no? There’s plenty of passing traffic and people, buses…. a big first floor window…you can watch them and they can’t see you. The landlady, Mrs Hudson, is a friend of mine, she’s been looking forward to having someone stay there, it’s a big house for one lady.”  
Alan had to admit it was cleverly done…by taking away the inevitability of the decision, making it more personal and asking Sherlock to consider it, John had handed Sherlock back some choice. He wasn’t surprised when Sherlock nodded …..

Half an hour later the car turned into Baker Street and stopped outside 221b.  
Nobody made a move to get out of the car.  
“That’s it, the door with the lion knocker. You’d be on the first floor.” John made it all sound so easy.  
Sherlock looked up at the tall, narrow fronted house with its double windows and then at the black painted front door. The lions head door knocker was crooked…that was oddly reassuring. Charles would never have overlooked that small imperfection every day.  
“Coming inside? She baked a sponge cake…it looks like a unicorn.” John held up his mobile phone complete with a photo of the cake, complete with gaudy multicoloured rainbow mane.  
“Good grief!” Mycroft was suitably horrified.  
John’s relaxed laughter hadn't changed one bit. 

Alan gave Sherlock’s hand a squeeze and Sherlock squeezed back before he reached determinedly for the seat belt. “Yes….”


End file.
